Chapter Text
Merlin eyed the amber fluid and the bubbles dancing to the foamy surface as it poured from the tap and slid over the lacquered wood of the bar before he ventured a sip. His lips had not even indented the foam when Gwaine guffawed, “I said take a drink, not kiss the head!” before promptly shoving Merlin’s face over the brim of the glass.
The result was having beer sop down his blue scarf and graphic tee, along with a harsh, red line across the bridge of his nose. Merlin managed to catch his spectacles before they plunked in his drink or shattered on the bar.
“Oh, shit.” Gwaine had the grace to stop laughing and rushed to get towels.
Merlin heard a soft laugh on his other side and felt Lancel carefully unwinding the scarf from his neck before wringing out the beer from it. “Here,” he offered, sliding his wine glass over, “Gwaine only drinks wine when he's desperate, so he should leave you alone about it.”
Merline cleansed his palette with water before politely declining the offer and deciding to keep the evening sober.
“May I ask why you’re wearing a scarf?” Lancel inquired, and Merlin could hear the smile in his voice.
“It was cold this morning,” he defended mildly, and then peered down at his shirt. “Also…I haven’t managed to get the stain out of the collar.”
Lancel’s gaze dropped to the stain mentioned: a rich, crimson scattering, like tie-dye gone wrong. At that moment, Gwaine crashed into the bar, throwing a heap of dishtowels over Merlin. Gwaine was not remotely drunk, it was just his way: crash first, apologize later.
Merlin glanced between his two roommates whom he’d only just met that morning. It had been Gwaine’s idea to visit the pub around the corner from campus, and Lancel had softly nodded his consent before they practically hauled Merlin from their dorm room. They were not diametric in appearance: both had kind, brown eyes and dark hair, however beyond that it was a wonder how they tolerated one another. Lancel was rather like his straight hair that he unconsciously flipped to the side on occasion: he was straight-laced, simple, and was not bothered by much. Over the course of the day, he seemed to both literally and figuratively brush things aside if they bothered him, and went on his merry way. Gwaine was a train wreck, albeit a beautiful one. His dark locks made a wavy mess that he might shake out of his face every now and then, but usually he let it be. So far, Merlin had noticed he had a brush for taming it on special occasions, and he was raking a hand through it now, revealing an apologetic expression.
“I’m really sorry about that,” he confessed, and then on a lighter note said, “Maybe a messy start will keep the rest of the year clean, though, ay?”
Lancel gave him a dubious expression. “I’m not sure life works like that, especially where you’re concerned.”
Merlin dropped his chin, failing to hide his giggle as Gwaine gave them both a theatrically offended look. “After everything I’ve done for you!”
“I haven’t known you a day,” Merlin retorted.
“I’ve known you too long,” Lancel joined.
“You’re a pair of bloody traitors is what you are,” Gwaine declared, but a wide grin was on his face. “So, Merlin, how were your classes today?”
He shrugged but he sat up straighter. “All right, I suppose. We just received our syllabi and a first assignment.”
Gwaine grimaced at the notion of homework, but Lancel asked, “You mentioned you were a graphic artist before, right? What’s the assignment?”
He nodded eagerly and explained, “It’s just a shadow study. We have to create a simple image that we can replicate four times using different methods or times of shading.”
“Times of shading?” Gwaine repeated.
“Like how Monet painted haystacks at different times of the day to explore shadow and color?” Merlin reiterated. “It’s like that.”
“But it’s on a computer,” Lancel added.
“I didn’t know you were into the arts, Lancel,” Gwaine teased as he leaned back on the bar, perusing the matrons of the establishment.
Lancel returned, “I spend enough time out of my cups to know what other studies this university offers.”
“That’s a shame,” Gwaine uttered distractedly. “Now if you will excuse me, there is a blond ass I must smack.”
Merlin’s lips frowned while his eyes went wide. He and Lancel followed Gwaine’s path across the field of booths and tables to where a tall blond man and a swarthy female had just entered. Merlin frowned, not understanding what ‘blond ass’ Gwaine had been referring, and then his palm connected with the man’s jeans.
“Oh! I didn’t think…” Merlin clamped his mouth shut.
Lancel was shaking his head with an amusing curve to his lips. “No, he’s just shameless.” He glanced at Merlin and then did a double take at Merlin’s incredibly anxious expression. “Hey, no worries. We don’t care if you’re gay.”
Merlin’s jaw dropped as he hastily tried to deny Lancel’s assumption. “N-NO! No, I just, uh, that sort of thing didn’t happen at my other school. Not that I mind, either! I just wasn’t expecting…”
Lancel laughed and placed a gentle hand on his nape. “Merlin, it’s okay. Really. I mean, sure, the dean of our school has a…reputation, but it’s not like you’ll be dealing with him on a regular basis. Not to mention his son’s bisexual.”
Merlin frowned, not understanding why Lancel was mentioning one of the many deans of the school’s offspring. “Son?”
Lancel gave him a vacant look and then realized, “Oh! Shit—duh—I’m sorry, of course you don’t know Arthur! I forgot you’re a transfer student. He’s the blonde Gwaine just groped. That’s his girlfriend, Gwen.”
“Oh…” Merlin nodded, feeling oddly relieved. A weight had so abruptly been lifted off his shoulders, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. “She’s lovely.”
“Isn’t she?” Lancel smiled again. “Beautiful inside and out. You’ll never meet anyone sweeter.”
Merlin observed how her wavy bob allowed her dangly earrings to hit the light and sparkle. Her warm, chocolate skin absorbed the light, and the only makeup she seemed to be wearing was a slight touch of red on her lips. Her boyfriend, Arthur, had his back to them and was chatting up Gwaine and some other people who’d gathered to greet him in the middle of the floor.
Merlin’s phone vibrated the same time Lancel inquired, “Do you want to meet them?”
“Hmm? Oh, shit, sorry. No, I better be getting back. I have an eight-thirty tomorrow, but I’m meeting me advisor before that.”
“Woah, you’ve got a full day ahead. That’s fine, go on; just be prepared to get chewed over by Gwaine if he hears you left a bar at ten-thirty.”
Lancel smiled and waved him out, promising to get Gwaine back to the room as quietly as he could. Merlin went on back to their dorm and tossed his shirt and scarf in the laundry bag before changing into soft shorts and a t-shirt that was so large it fell off one of his shoulders. The room had its own small bathroom, so he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and cleaned his glasses for the morning. Merlin was glad he’d managed to win rock-paper-scissors and gotten the bed by the window; he opened it to let in the late summer breeze. With the smell of the coast and honeysuckle wafting in the room as he nestled in his mountain of pillows, Merlin fainted easily.
The following morning he went to his advisor’s office, only to find a note wedged in the locked door telling him to meet Professor Gaius in the dining hall. Merlin was puzzled initially, but he was immediately glad to find the elderly man waiting for him with a bagel topped with roasted onions and garlic with cheese and prosciutto sandwiched inside.
“Good morning, Merlin!” he grinned a bright smile. His own spectacles rested atop his head, holding back his fluffy, white tresses while he ate. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like something savory or sweet. I also have this one with cinnamon cream cheese, if you’d like.”
One of the reasons Merlin had chosen this school to transfer to: Gaius. He was an old acquaintance of his mother’s, but he knew the man well enough to trust his judgment, and the man liked him well enough to supply him with ready breakfast options. Merlin could only nod eagerly as he chewed one bagel and swiped cream cheese across the other.
“How was your first day?” Gaius inquired.
“Uneventful, but fine,” Merlin answered before engulfing another bite.
“You have different classes today,” the man recalled. “In half an hour, yes?”
Merlin nodded, fighting to gulp before saying, “Chemistry lab.”
Professor Gaius’s eyes lit up as he cut into his fruit. “Your mother mentioned you enjoyed the outdoors. A concentration in environmental studies is a curious subject when you’re majoring in the arts and minoring in philosophy.”
Merlin tumbled his food in his mouth, swallowed, and replied, “I like being outside, but…I've always been surrounded by art. Philosophy gives me a headache, but it teaches me how to think differently.”
Gaius’s eyes lifted. “Oh I’m not criticizing you, dear boy. Your interests vary and are what make you unique. I don’t want to keep you from your first class, though; you best be heading off. I’ll see you at three-thirty today.”
Merlin had never removed his rucksack, so he piled the bagels and cradled them against his chest as he hurried to his morning lab. Swiveling his head left and right, he scanned the sterile corridor for the correct room number until he found it and rushed in so he was not late.
Turns out, the laboratory was on a slight incline, and Merlin’s toes collided with the threshold, catapulting his lanky form. Merlin yelped the same time a low voice exclaimed, and Merlin saw his bagels plaster themselves to the torso of a large figure while coins were strewn by Merlin’s flailing limbs.
Merlin felt large, strong hands clutch his ribcage, and after a second of staring at the slate floors, waiting for them to meet his face, Merlin was placed back on his feet.
“Wow, thank goodness you’ve more finesse than—” he began, his tongue flying with the words, begging to get his apologies out of his mouth, but then he looked up into eyes that were blue and molten like water, framed by gold tresses dusting over the darker brows. Merlin swallowed only to feel his throat was dry. “I-I’m sor—”
“Charming. Just charming,” the blonde curtailed angrily. Merlin followed his line of sight to the two halves of a bagel cemented to his V-neck shirt, and the thin slice of prosciutto that Merlin hadn’t managed to finish. The rest of the unfinished bagel was on the blonde’s shoes, which stood over the scattered coins Merlin had knocked from his hand. Merlin ducked down to hide his embarrassment as well as to pick up some of the coins as he examined those shoes in a matter of seconds: oxblood leather chukka boots, but not the kind that hipsters go hiking in. These looked straight out of a designer’s workshop and could not be less than three hundred dollars.
Which could only mean…
Merlin’s eyes jerked up widely, absorbing that blond hair, wide shoulders, the confident stance… “Are you—?”
“Pissed off? Yes, I am,” Arthur snapped. Merlin scowled, leaving the coins where they were and dumping the ones he had gathered in Arthur's palm. It was just some white cheddar and bread on his laces, nothing to tangle his hair over, and the shirt looked like it could easily be replaced with something from an outlet store.
He glared at Merlin’s fingers peeling off the bagel slices from his body. “Well you really shouldn’t be wearing designer shoes to a laboratory anyway.”
“This isn’t about my shoes,” Arthur returned patiently, like he was speaking to a child, but his tone quickly fired back up to a boil. “This is about your idiocy! Learn how to walk properly, and for gods sake, put your fucking breakfast in a bag.”
“It’s lunch,” Merlin spat, making a point to hold the slices like they were toxic as he leaned toward the rubbish bin. “Though not anymore with your vile lint all over it.”
“Vile?” Arthur looked as if he’d never been spoken to in his life, and what with being the dean’s son, Merlin reckoned he hadn’t.
Merlin clapped his hands over the trash bin, theatrically ridding them of crumbs. “I know how art works, and with fashion, everything depends on the wearer. Your attitude is not living up to your raiment’s potential.”
Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded for a brief moment before he guffawed. “Coming from you? With that awful shirt, barbaric jeans, and, jesus christ, a scarf in September! You haven’t even noticed that your fake, hipster glasses are broken!”
Merlin’s expression went blank and he delicately pulled off his glasses to squint at a fine white crack along the corner of one of the lenses. He had to hold it inches from his face to see it, but his eyes widened. “No, this is my only pair!” he complained quietly to himself, and then balanced them on the bridge of his nose to glare at Arthur. “This is your faul—!”
“Gentlemen,” came an authoritative voice. “Please stop squabbling and take your seats.”
Merlin and Arthur glanced at the lab instructor wearing his telltale white coat with safety goggles resting on his dark scalp. “Sorry, Dr. Agravaine,” Arthur announced diplomatically, all traces of frustration eliminated from his voice.
“It’s all right, Mr. Pendragon,” the teacher approved. Merlin scowled on the way to an empty chair. Pendragon. Pretentious and pompous run in your veins, don't they? he thought inwardly.
Today’s schedule was so full that Merlin was already dreading his lack of a lunch break, and certainly his lack of a lunch. As he flipped through the laboratory manual while Dr. Agravaine instructed, Merlin glanced up, down, and then back up when he felt eyes on him. He found them immediately in the young woman sitting diagonally from him.
An incredibly beautiful woman.
She had black hair like Merlin, but hers was long and rippled down her back. Her turquoise eyes shone brightly even from this distance, and her full, pink lips smiled guiltily at being caught. Merlin goofily smiled back. She looked like someone from old Hollywood, with her sculpted bone structure of strong features and elegant eyes, mouth, and her creamy complexion. Really, her only flaw was that her hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d just leaped out of bed like everyone else here. And that wasn’t even a flaw in Merlin’s eyes.
Then she leaned to her other side, away from Merlin, and whispered something in a man’s ear, whom Merlin realized was Arthur. He stared only long enough to watch the blonde lean into her to listen, and then Merlin looked away before Arthur’s gaze found him. Unable to help himself, though, a second later Merlin peered across the room, just in time to see Arthur grimacing in his direction and shaking his head at the woman.
Merlin couldn’t be happier that he had skipped meeting Arthur the night before. So far, he seemed the type of person that Merlin would not only need to steer clear from, but would gladly do so.
And then his reverie shattered when the professor declared that the person next to you would be your lab partner for the entirety of the semester. Merlin looked around him, only to see that he was the only one on his end of the long counter. He scanned the room for odd numbers…but there weren’t any. Merlin was the odd one out.
Story of my life he narrated placidly, resuming his slouched position over the counter, until his gaze was yanked sideways by Arthur hissing, “Morgana!”
The woman was heading right for Merlin. Her fingertips grazed across the counter as she rounded it, and leaned her hip over the edge of the seat next to him, settling beside him. She smiled sweetly at him before shooting an expectant stare at Arthur, “Well come on. We’ll be a group of three.”
A rush of sentiment surged in Merlin’s chest. He felt immensely grateful for Morgana’s action, but annoyance also crept in as he met Arthur’s glare when the blonde trudged to the seat on Merlin’s other side.
“Thank you, but I really don’t mind working alone,” he offered.
Morgana gave him a blunt stare and reproached kindly, “Don’t be ridiculous. Trust me, you’ll want the help. Our uncle won’t take pity on you if you’re without a partner.”
Merlin blinked. “Our…?”
She smiled again. “I’m Morgana, Arthur’s sister. That git who was too rude to introduce himself to you earlier,” she added with a gesture at Arthur.
Her brother said nothing, but as Merlin glanced between them, he noticed a resemblance in their stances: both were incredibly confident individuals, with strong, yet not overpowering bone structures.
“I’m Merlin,” he returned, and his head swiveled when Arthur scoffed.
“Merlin? What sort of name is…well, our father’s name is Uther for christ’s sake, so I won’t hold your parents’ choice against you.”
Merlin wasn’t sure if he was being insulted or if this was Arthur’s way of being gallant. He chose to direct the conversation toward Morgana while Dr. Agravaine passed out the specimen they were to be dissecting to each group. “Are you twins?”
“No,” she laughed, “I’m a year older, but Arthur’s a year ahead, so he’s in our grade. What are you studying?”
“Graphic design,” Merlin answers. “With a minor in philosophy. My concentration is environmental studies, that’s why I chose this class for my science credit.”
“Same!” she beams. “For my concentration, at least. I’m majoring in political science like Arthur, and minoring in criminology.”
Merlin’s dark brows reach for his hairline, although his mop of equally dark hair mostly concealed this. “Wow, that’s, uh…intense.”
Her laugh is throaty and lovely as she pulls on her lab coat, tossing her hair out of the collar. “Blame our father. We were raised with dinner table debates and he’s running for office in the coming election.”
Merlin knew very little about politics unless it affected him directly. Since there was very little legislation—or at least good legislation—regarding the LGBT community or the arts, he was not interested in politics. “Oh well, good luck to him,” he responded ambiguously.
Morgana proved to be a capable lab partner who wasn’t too chatty but still kept Merlin engaged. Arthur was silent most of the time, only speaking up to discuss the actual specimen they were dissecting or the chemical homework they were assigned. That changed when class dismissed, and he looked directly at Merlin.
“Get a haircut. We’re using Bunsen burners next time and I don’t want to have to clean up a charred lab partner.”
Merlin stared at him and his stupidly perfect hair as he left the laboratory. It was long enough so that it reached his brows if he let it, but he typically ran his hands through it so often that it stood up at just the right angles, perfectly disorderly. Merlin self-consciously fingered his own tresses and the mess of cowlicks that it was. He cleaned, conditioned, and brushed it every day, but the soft mass refused to be controlled.
He startled at the touch on his nape, and found Morgana’s hand exploring his scalp. “I like it,” she declared. “It’s like you have permanent after-sex hair.”
She guffawed when Merlin’s cheeks visibly burned a hundred degrees. He knew she felt it in his neck because she laid the back of her cool hand against his throat. “Aw, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” he assured, swallowing his embarrassment. “I’ve just…never been insulted and then complimented quite like that before.”
One of her sleek brows lifted and she looked where Arthur had disappeared out the lab door. “I often think his name was mean to be Asshole, but the nurse somehow heard Arthur and put that on his certificate instead. He’s not all bad, though, so don’t let him get to you. Despite what he says, he really would clean you up and take you to the hospital if your hair caught on fire.”
Merlin wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not, and muttered dubiously, “Great.”
Morgana walked with him across campus, claiming that she had a break before her next class and she was meeting someone along Merlin’s route anyways. Outside of the art building, Merlin recognized Gwen, Arthur’s girlfriend. He did a quick scan of the area to make sure her boyfriend was nowhere to be found.
Gwen looked up from her textbook just in time to see them approaching, and jumped up from the concrete barrier encompassing the massive garden in front of the glass and metal structure. No expense had been spared when this school was constructed.
“Guinevere!” Morgana chimed, skipping forward and hugging her friend before pecking a kiss on her cheek. “This is Merlin, I just met him in chemistry.”
“Hello, Guinevere,” he greeted, holding out his hand.
She accepted it eagerly but laughed, “Oh please, just call me Gwen.”
“I like your full name,” Morgana complained.
Gwen rolled her eyes at Merlin, making him laugh. “Yes, but it’s bad enough that my name is medieval and I’m getting a degree for medieval studies.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have to get to class. It was nice meeting you.” He waved and took a step away, but Gwen called him back.
“Wait! When do you get out of class?”
“I’m not finished until three-twenty, and then I’m meeting my advisor,” he apologized.
To his surprise, Gwen smiled. “Okay! Do you want to get some coffee or something later? Morgana and I know a great little place—we can meet you here and walk there?”
Merlin thought about it and couldn’t think of any reason not to. “That sounds nice,” he said, and Gwen held out her phone to him. The three of them exchanged numbers and despite knowing him for less than a minute, Gwen hugged him and wished him a good day.
Merlin was baffled as to how Arthur could have achieved such a kind person for his girlfriend.
The day passed easily enough, and he met Professor Gaius to relay the events of the day. It was less formal than most advisor meetings went, but then again, Gaius was not like most professors. He laughed and chatted with Merlin until he leaked his confrontation with Arthur, after which he fell silent.
Merlin realized he’d just outright placed the dean’s son in an unfavorable light in front of a faculty member, and his heart began to sink. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Oh no, no,” Gaius interrupted. “I have no doubt in what you say happened. I’ve just known Arthur for quite a long time. He’s an incredibly hard worker; he’s double majoring in two of the hardest subjects and has managed to get ahead of his age group. It is only natural that he is feeling stressed for the new academic year. I am sorry you were the person on whom he vented his frustrations.”
Merlin asked tentatively. “Double majoring in what?”
Gaius pondered that and recalled, “Political science and international relations, I believe…ah, and a minor in business administration. With the station his father is in, he has high expectations to live up to.”
Merlin felt guilty all of a sudden. He defended mildly, “That doesn’t give him the right to be an ass.”
Gaius chuckled heartily. “No, I suppose you’re right about that, but it doesn’t help to goad him on.” He gave Merlin a pointed stare, under which Merlin swallowed guiltily. “The boy I knew grew into a fine young man, though. Just be patient with him. University is hard on all of us, but even more so for him.”
Merlin could tell their meeting was drawing to a close, but something Lancel said arose in his mind and he had to ask, “The dean…Arthur’s father…I heard that he has some sort of reputation?”
Gaius looked at him expectantly. “Like what?”
Merlin swallowed, contemplating how to go about this so he could ask what was really on his mind. “I don’t know. I was just wondering if…I heard he was running for a political office, plus being one of the deans...Arthur's sister mentioned that one of the professors was their uncle. The dean must have a lot of sway in the school’s goings on…”
A shadow passed over Gaius’s eyes, and Merlin knew he saw right through his guarded speech. “I know what happened at your last institution, Merlin, but I assure you, Uther Pendragon is not the sole individual managing this school. I will be honest with you and say, yes, he does not often bother to understand things outside of his way of thinking, but you hardly have any need to feel concern.”
The dark grey-blue eyes behind the glasses narrowed as he inspected Merlin. “I want you to go out of your way to enjoy your time here. A student should not be afraid to get an education, and I’ve seen your work. You’re incredibly talented. We are lucky to have you.”
He glanced at the clock on his desk and finished, “You said you were meeting friends later? You best not keep them waiting.”
Merlin nodded and silently left the office as he texted Gwen and Morgana to let them know he was free. Gwen replied to him almost immediately:
Great! We’re already by the garden :)
Merlin found them exactly where he’d left them earlier that day, and Gwen gave him a one-armed hug before they set off for the coffee shop. Merlin was glad to read their menu and see that they also had a wide selection of teas and smoothies alongside wraps and salads. His knees bounced with anticipation while his stomach roiled painfully from not finishing his breakfast and losing his lunch to Arthur’s shirt. When his turkey wrap finally arrived with his tea, he had ceased conversing with Morgana and Gwen for fear of saying something untoward in his famished haze.
He filled his cheeks with two bites and chewed around the blueberry sauce, turkey, crunchy vegetables, and toasted pita wrap blissfully. When Morgana said his name, his gaze perked up under hooded lids with his cheeks still full. The ladies giggled at the sight and Merlin realized Morgana had asked him a question.
“I was asking if you wanted to come with us and some friends to a club tonight? The dancing’s great and the drinks are cheap.”
He shook his head and swallowed. “I can’t, I’ve got rehearsals.”
Gwen’s attention piqued. “Theatre?”
“A cappella and choir,” he corrected.
She and Morgana grinned at each other while the latter commented, “You’ll meet Leon and Percy, then! They’re coming with us tonight.”
Gwen pulled out her mobile. “I’ll text them and let them know to meet you. They’re great guys, and hopefully they’ll convince you to come along. We need to have fun before the semester really kicks off.”
She pivoted her phone so he could see a picture of them, although the view was obstructed by a massive amount of cream and pie filling all over their faces. “I admit, it’s not the best picture,” she apologized, “This was at the pie throwing fest, a charity for their fraternity last spring.”
The young men looked nice enough, if their pie-covered smiles were any indication, but Merlin replied warily, “Rehearsals won’t be finished until nine o’clock, and I’ve already got homework.”
Morgana assured, “We won’t be out past midnight. Arthur’s a lightweight anyway—oh, right…Arthur’s going by the way.”
Something must have changed on Merlin’s face for her to say that, and Gwen glanced between them before asking, “What’s up with Arthur?”
Morgana smiled guiltily and explained, “Arthur left his charm at home this morning and got off on the wrong foot with Merlin. He’s cooperating since the three of us are lab partners, but—”
“Oh,” Gwen curtailed, “you’re the one who got cream cheese on his shirt.” She giggled. “He’s not a morning person, but he’s gotten over that by now. You can bring some of your friends if you’ll be more comfortable.”
Merlin thought about that and agreed, “My roommates might like to go. Gwaine will be out the door the moment I mention it.”
Gwen’s eyes brightened. "Gwaine and Lancel are your roommates? Yes! Bring them! They’re in the same frat with Percy, Leon, and Arthur. Just tell Gwaine to leave that cough syrup he calls whiskey under his bed.”
Merlin laughed, having already seen the mason jar of homemade whiskey Gwaine kept a supply of. He passed along the invitation to his roommates via text before departing to go get some homework done before rehearsals and the inevitable evening of dancing. When he walked into the rehearsal auditorium, he found the a capella leaders he had auditioned for earlier in the summer, and signed in on their clipboard.
“Hi, are you Merlin?”
He turned…and his head craned upward. They might have been clean of pie, but Leon and Percy were much taller than he anticipated. Leon was a tall figure of strong, albeit willowy limbs, with a hooked nose, cupid bow lips, and curly, curly auburn hair. Percy was obviously an athlete of some kind, with shoulders as wide as Arthur’s, but his stance was loose and casual. The light bounced off his buzzed, brunette hair, shining almost blond where the light hit.
“Yes,” Merlin said tentatively, straightening his glasses.
“I’m Leon,” he smiled, extending a hand, which Merlin shook.
“And I’m Percy,” the other reciprocated the gesture, shaking Merlin’s hand congenially. “Gwen mentioned she’d met someone who was in both choirs. It’s cool to meet you. There aren’t many people who go for both choir and a cappella.”
“You’re a transfer, right?” Leon picked up. “How are you liking everything?”
Merlin grinned. “So far, leagues ahead of my other school.”
Leon smiled while Percy’s attention was drawn to someone else entering the rehearsal room. “Elyan’s here. Hey, Eli! Come meet the new guy!”
Merlin’s eyes averted and he was taken aback by a young man with rich, dark skin approaching. Percy noticed his reaction and laughed, “They look like twins, don’t they? This is Gwen’s younger brother, Eli. He’s a freshman, and we tease him about it as much as possible.”
“He’s not lying,” Elyan gave him a look before smiling kindly at Merlin.
“Merlin’s a transfer,” Leon informed, “so both of you should shout out to us if you need help with anything.”
“Woah, nice scarf,” Elyan interrupted, reaching out to feel the red scarf around Merlin’s neck. It was his most expensive garment, the scarlet material covered in a darker crimson, arabesque pattern.
“Thank you, it was a gift,” Merlin replied.
Elyan’s brows lifted, aware of how much it likely cost. “Take care of that. Anything could happen.”
Leon agreed, “Best leave that in the dorm when we go out later.”
Their practice leaders called for everyone’s attention, then, and they gathering in a circle to warm up and pass out the songs they were going to work on for the art building’s open house in a few weeks. Afterwards, Leon, Percy, and Elyan rushed away to grab dinner, but since Merlin’s lunch was so late his stomach was still full. He pulled out his laptop to work on his graphic homework in the fifteen minutes he had before the school’s choir mistress entered and had the men and women line up based on the pitch in which they sang best.
Once rehearsals ended, Leon, Percy, and Elyan found Merlin in the crowd of students departing and walked with him to his dorm so he could drop off his things, as well as pick up Lancel and Gwaine.
“Gwaine, what the hell are you wearing?” Leon interrogated upon entering the room.
“What?” the man in question replied innocently. He adjusted his neon pink headband and dusted off the equally neon blue shirt and highlighter yellow trousers. He practically glowed, and that was exactly what he was aiming for.
Percy failed to keep a straight face as he said, “You look like one of those bug lamps, except repellent.”
Merlin laughed with the rest of them as he crammed his phone, wallet, and keys into his pockets, exchanged his scarf for a quilted, black leather jacket with flannel lining. Gwaine bantered with Leon and Percy until he noticed Merlin’s apparel and whooped, “Uh oh, Merlin’s breaking out the leather. Hide your husbands! Hide your wives!”
At the amused, albeit puzzled look everyone gave him, he shrugged, “I don’t discriminate.”
Merlin asked Lancel curiously, “Does he know?”
His roommate shook his head. “No, it's not my place to tell him, and like he said, he doesn’t discriminate.”
Merlin laughed as he locked the door behind them. The six of them piled into Gwaine’s retro VW bus and cruised along the highway to the club where Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur were meeting them. Merlin sat in the front seat beside Gwaine and snuck a picture on his phone while Gwaine was singing along to the radio, and then twisted the phone while they were at a red light to take a selfie with everyone.
Gwaine tossed his keys to the valet of the restaurant across the street from the club. He claimed it was easier to have someone else park in this neighborhood, even if they weren’t eating at the restaurant. Merlin rotated to see the brightly lit sign that read, Good Company. They paid the entrance fee and were already on their second drinks by the time Morgana, Gwen, and Arthur arrived.
“Wow, took you long enough,” Gwaine chided as he gave Arthur a one-armed hug and kissed both of the ladies’ cheeks.
“Arthur refused to park within four blocks of here,” Morgana turned a critical eye on her brother.
“Why didn’t you use the valet across the street?” Gwaine questioned.
Arthur stared at him dubiously. “You know they can fine you if they know you haven’t eaten at that restaurant?”
Gwaine waved the matter away and sipped his mojito. “I’ll have an appetizer as a midnight snack.”
“Is that good?” Morgana asked Gwaine of his beverage. He let her sip it while Gwen came in to hug Merlin. In his peripheral, he saw Arthur turn to see whom Gwen was hugging, and his eyes locked with Merlin’s.
“Oh…you.”
Merlin’s lips pressed together but he swallowed his sass and extended a hand. “Let’s try this again, I’m Merlin.”
Arthur scrutinized his hand but ultimately accepted it. “Arthur.” He turned away and announced to no one in particular, “I need a drink. What’s the most alcoholic thing here?”
Someone at the bar overheard and laughed, holding out the list of cocktails the bartenders specialized. “The Sorceress is a real doozy.”
“I’ll take it,” he nodded at the bartender, who promptly began pouring bottles into a shaker.
Merlin was discussing the art of eastern European armor in the medieval ages with Gwen when he felt an arm snake through his and found Morgana grinning wickedly. “Dance with me!”
He felt himself tugged into a cloud of heat and perfume, but he let his shoulders and hips move with the beat and melody of the blasting music. At one point Morgana took his hands, but he turned the tables and twirled her, leading her through a swing dance.
“When did you learn this?” she exclaimed gleefully over the music.
“My mother!” he shouted back with a similarly wide grin on his face.
Out of nowhere, Leon, Percy, and Lancel filtered through the crowd to join them. The five of them formed a wonky circle until Gwaine burst right through it, holding his drink high. His heavy arm landed around Merlin’s shoulders and they danced together until Gwaine determined that he was not drinking enough and Merlin accompanied him to the bar.
Gwen and Arthur were still there, and Gwaine arrived just in time for the bartender’s attention. He was setting down a multitude of beverages and Arthur pointed to one, asking, “Is this mine?”
The bartender glanced, nodded, and took Gwaine’s order. With drink in hand, Arthur let Gwen take his hand and lead him onto the dance floor. A moment later, Gwaine did the same thing with Merlin, yanking him through the crowd until he found their group once again. Gwen appeared and asked him for a dance, so he swung her into a twirl like he had with Morgana.
“MERLIN WITH THE MOVES!” Gwaine proclaimed, waving his arms in a robotic style. Merlin and Gwen guffawed, pausing to catch their breath when Arthur suddenly stumbled right into Merlin. The impact caused them to collide with three other people. Merlin apologized profusely, or as much as he could over the blaring speakers, but Arthur seemed oblivious as he partially hung off of Merlin for support.
“You dance like a fairy,” he mumbled into Merlin’s shoulder.
“Arthur, stand up, I can’t hold your weight! How much have you…?” he returned, but then he noticed the shape of his glass. “Is that still your first drink?”
Gwaine’s attention perked up and dumped Arthur’s glass right onto the floor. He lifted the reflective aviator glasses he was wearing and squinted at the runoff liquid. “I can’t tell if these are really small bubbles or drug particles…”
Merlin swiped a finger along the glass while crumpling under Arthur’s weight. He rubbed his fingers together and felt the granules disintegrate against his fingertips, “Someone tipped his drink.”
“Well that’s hardly good company,” Gwaine uttered, peering into his own glass. “Well I’m in no state to drive him home.”
Lancel chimed in, “Shit, none of us are except Merlin, but we need the cars. Can I split a cab with you, Merlin? I’ll help you take him home.”
Merlin took one glance at everyone else and placed a hand on Lancel’s shoulder. “No, stay here. Make sure everyone else gets home safe.”
Lancel nodded his understanding and gestured to Arthur. “He’s fading fast. You better get him someplace where he can vomit.”
With that, Merlin hoisted Arthur’s arm around his slender shoulders and half-dragged him out of the establishment. He had to haul Arthur around the block to the main street in order to hail a cab, and Arthur was not helping.
“Wha…what is this, really?” he scoffed, flicking his fingers in Merlin’s hair. “How do you even see? Your hair nearly touches your glasses…”
Merlin repeatedly pulled Arthur's hand out of his hair and all but shoved him inside the purring taxi. He gave the driver the name of their university and managed to buckle Arthur under a seatbelt before the muscle mass of his body slumped against Merlin, pinning him against the door.
“Arthur…I can’t help you if you squish my lungs,” Merlin huffed for breath.
Arthur blew something akin to a raspberry in the air. “Skeleton like you doesn’t have lungs. Carrion…carrion things wouldn’t even pick you for bits.”
“I don’t see why they would bother with you lying on top of me,” he growled, shoving and successfully placing Arthur on the other side of the car.
“Excuse you!” the blonde declared with a hiccup. “I am a varsity athlete and that demands more than you’re packing.”
Merlin would not have pegged Arthur as the self-conscious type, but he let the man prattle on about why his weight was justified as they arrived on their campus. He was rather stunned how Arthur was still conscious and verbal, but attributed it to his size since he was reminded of how much larger Arthur was as he yanked him out of the car.
“Keep the change!” Merlin called to the driver because he simply could not count money while holding Arthur at the same time. “In which dorm do you live?”
Arthur grimaced as if the sidewalk lamp was too bright. “Dorm? I live in the dean’s suite…my father’s house.”
Merlin sighed haughtily. He neither knew where that was, nor suspected that it would be a clever idea to knock on a dean’s door to deliver his roofied son. He might have texted Gwen to see where she lived, but she and her dorm keys were still at the club.
“Come on, you heavy clot,” he announced, “you’ll have to stay with me tonight.”
“Call me that…again, and I…I will…”
“Shut up, Arthur.”
“The Benson!...Ben..Boo…Bun—Bunson burner! Call me that and I’ll Bunson your hair to a proper length…”
Merlin rolled his eyes and continued ushering him across the campus. He meant to cut across the massive front lawn, but Arthur’s feet kept tripping over the grass or getting caught in nonexistent holes, and he was convinced that the hill they were on was a mountain; despite the muscle relaxant’s strong effects, he held onto Merlin tightly.
“Drop me and I swear…” he wasn’t able to find a conclusive end to that sentence.
Merlin provided, “If I drop you anywhere, it will not be on the soft front lawn.”
“You’re quite rude. Do you know that?”
Merlin opened his mouth but Arthur’s never closed. “I mean, really rude. You trip like a clumsy idiot into class…throw your despicable food at me…”
“I did not throw anything at you,” Merlin defended, but Arthur was on a roll.
“Then you make Morgana think you’re cute or something—Guinevere, too, I can tell—you danced with my girlfriend!”
He abruptly stood on his two feet, staring Merlin in the eye. “You never asked me if you could do that.”
“She asked me,” Merlin scoffed. “Obviously fairies dance better than pretty boys. Up the stairs, now…”
The goal was less to get Arthur up the stairs than it was to make sure he didn’t face plant on the concrete treads. They managed it, though, and Merlin scanned his university ID card to get into his building.
“Is this where you live?” Arthur wondered with an equal mix of incredulity and disgust.
“No, it’s where we prepare the bodies,” Merlin sassed, guiding Arthur to the next set of stairs.
“My body is not ready…” Arthur grumbled, and they came to a standstill as his shoulders heaved. Merlin waited…and waited for something to come spewing out of Arthur’s mouth, but after a long minute, Arthur removed the hand over his mouth to give a shaky thumbs up. “I have an image to uphold…and that does not include vomiting in a stairwell.”
“How thoughtful. Don’t worry, your reputation is already shot by me,” Merlin growled as they climbed another three stairs.
Arthur rounded on him with enough clumsy force to press Merlin into the banister rail. “Take that back, hipster four-eyes. I’m delightful.”
Merlin would have guffawed if he weren’t struggling for air. “Your breath smells like cheap rum and vomit, you weigh half a ton, you’re the worst morning person alive if today was any indication, and I’m not sure why I volunteered to have you breathing down my neck in a cramped stairwell.”
“Most people enjoy it,” he grumbled, slowly sinking back into his slouch against Merlin, albeit still pinning him against the railing.
“By ‘most people,’ I hope you mean Gwen,” Merlin declared pointedly. He spun Arthur around so the man swayed a little, but that arm returned to Merlin’s shoulders, just as heavy and tight as before.
“Of course I mean Guinevere!” he harrumphed. “Fuck, I’m not my father.”
Merlin slowed their ascent, taken aback by Arthur’s simultaneously defiant and dejected tone. “Um…what do you mean?” he dared to ask.
Arthur’s head lolled until it fell on Merlin’s shoulder. They’d finally made it to the landing of Merlin’s floor, and he was turning the knob when Arthur revealed, “Morgana’s my half sister.”
Merlin blinked through the strain of carrying Arthur and let the stairwell door swing shut behind them. “She’s a year older, though. That doesn’t mean—”
“Merlin,” Arthur huffed like he was missing the obvious. “My father was married for five years before I was born.”
“Oh.” He really had nothing to say to that.
By some miracle, Arthur managed to stay on his feet, only sliding partially down the wall as he waited for Merlin to unlock his dorm room. Then he rolled along the doorframe and stumbled onto Gwaine’s bed. He grimaced at the room. “What is that smell?”
“Gwaine’s whiskey,” Merlin informed tersely, grabbing Arthur’s muscly shoulders and steering him toward the bathroom. “You need to hurl in the toilet.”
“I can barely see the…” Arthur tried, but his knees buckled beneath him. His eyes were barely open. Merlin helped him to the toilet bowl and reached for Lancel’s cologne before promptly spraying it in Arthur’s face. The man winced, grimaced, and then his features went slack and tinged green as he lunged face first into the bowl. Merlin rubbed his back as he emptied his stomach, meanwhile spritzing some of the cologne in the air. It smelled quite nice and covered the stench of sickness, although a spray in the face was potent enough to keel Arthur’s stomach over.
When he finished with a dry heave, Merlin cleaned his face with a damp towel before helping him out of his shoes and light, linen blazer. He draped the cool towel on Arthur’s neck as he dropped him on his own bed. Arthur was semi-conscious and becoming delirious as Merlin yanked his pillows from beneath him, leaving Arthur with one cushion as Merlin commenced to build a makeshift bed on the floor.
“Mmwhosebed izzthis?” Arthur asked sleepily.
Merlin recovered a spare blanket and placed the rubbish bin beside Arthur’s head along with a bottle of water. “Mine.”
Arthur seemed to be contemplating theoretical physics as he stared between Merlin kneeling on the floor and the two empty beds in the room. “Why…the floor?”
“Because Gwaine and Lancel will be back soon and need their beds to sleep in.”
“You don’t?”
“Go to sleep, Arthur.”
Merlin waited until Arthur’s eyes finally closed and his chest rose and fell evenly before returning to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash his face, and clean his glasses for the morning. Arranging his multitude of pillows around himself, he snuggled in his blanket and fell asleep, only briefly considering what he was going to do when Arthur awoke the following morning.