fic: Rinse, Lather, Repeat (part a)
Nov. 5th, 2010 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesTitle: Rinse, Lather, Repeat (1/1)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Crumble fic under running water, and be sure to suspend disbelief before bathing. An epic tale of awkwardness, daft boys, and love as expressed through bathing products (yes, you read that right. Bathing products). With bonus arts.
Disclaimer: Oh, God. So not mine. I do spend so much money in Body Shop and Lush that I feel entitled to shares, though.
Word Count: 11500
Notes: Originally written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nuclearsugars's birthday so I feel bad about blaming her for the ridiculousness. Oh wait, no I don't. BB, this is entirely your fault <3 Thanks to brighty18 for the beta.
Can be read in one part at AO3: HERE
It's quiet today, and Arthur's got a textbook open on the counter, out of sight of any customers who should wander in, desperately trying to fill his head with Kant's moral philosophy before the in-class test next week.
"Arthur!" Morgana yells from the back room.
She's a pain in the arse, but she's not Kant's second formulation, so Arthur's actually quite cheery as he calls, "What?"
"Care to explain why some skinny, half-naked oik is demonstrating Lush products outside the shop?"
"What?"
The Lush store is almost directly opposite The Body Shop, and it's a bit of a running joke that the staff in each place will do everything they can to tempt people away from the other shop. This is a bit much though, and Arthur slams his book shut, heading quickly out of the shop. Sure enough, there is a skinny half-naked oik standing at a small, wheeled table, equipped with a large basin of water, gleefully showing off fizzy, bubbly things from Lush.
"Oi!" Arthur yells. "You can't bloody poach customers from right outside my shop!"
The boy turns around hastily, and Arthur has time to notice the wide brown swathe of something almost muddy looking across the boy's chest, the smear of something pale lilac across one cheek, before his breath catches momentarily in his throat. The boy has ridiculously blue eyes. Ridiculously blue. And cheekbones that are only emphasised more when he gives an impish grin and says with the slightest trace of a Welsh accent, "Hey, free market, mate. It's shit, but it's the only game in town."
"Seriously, get out of here," Arthur says, just about resisting the urge to add, scat.
Blue-eyes turns back to the gathered crowd and starts collecting his products with quick hands, all the time saying, "Okay, Ladies, Gents, the man says I have to move on now, so if you'd care to follow me – "
"Free samples," Arthur blurts. "It's free sample day here at Body Shop so come on in, have a look around, leave this urchin to get cleaned up and moved along before the men in white coats turn up."
Blue-eyes glares at him for a moment, then grins when the crowd splits pretty evenly in half.
"Hey," he says, and tosses something towards Arthur. Arthur catches it reflexively and finds himself looking at a tiny pot of bright pink crystals.
"What the – "
"Kissably soft lips, guaranteed," the boy says, with an outrageous wink before leading the younger, hippier contingent of the crowd off towards Lush.
***
Arthur knows he's in for a bad day when he turns up for his shift to see Morgana setting up the small wheeled cabinet they use when they're demonstrating hand massages, facials, and makeup advice.
"Oh, no," he says, because the glint in her eye leaves him in no doubt as to what she's planning.
Sure enough, she just smiles thinly and says, "Oh, yes. That idiot boy from Lush was here again yesterday, and Sophia was too stupid to chase him off."
"Don't take it out on me," Arthur mutters.
"Arthur, it's not personal. It's strictly business."
Arthur glares at her. "You are not the Godfather, Morgana."
She shrugs like that's totally irrelevant, and goes on, "In technical terms, that boy is taking the piss. And what do we do, Arthur?" she asks. "We fight fire with fire. So. Off you go."
"Oh, God," Arthur groans. "Fine."
He sets the cabinet up outside the shop, only for Morgana to appear in the doorway and glare until he drags the whole thing closer to Lush.
He gives hand massages to a pair of middle-aged women, and makeup and skincare advice to three giggling teenage girls. All of them walk into the shop afterwards, and come out with bags a bit later. Just when Arthur's starting to think it might not be that bad after all (it's a nice day, lots of his mates will be passing this way on their route to uni, and he's out of reach of Morgana's vicious-chest-poking style of management), everything goes to hell.
"Hi."
Arthur looks up to see the blue-eyed boy from the other day. "Oh, Christ."
He holds his hands up in a gesture of appeasement. "I'm off duty, I swear."
Arthur looks closer and sure enough, the boy's wearing a typical student outfit, jeans and a faded black t-shirt, a weird red scarf knotted casually around his neck. "What do you want?" Arthur asks, still not exactly of a mind to be friendly.
"Hand, er...massage, right?" he asks, glancing at the bowl and bottles in front of Arthur. The hand job crack goes unspoken for once.
"Believe me, I've heard every joke you'd care to make," Arthur says.
"Oh, please," the boy tuts. "You don't sell products called Sex in the Shower, Dorothy, Tramp..."
Arthur can't help laughing. "Dorothy? Seriously? As in friend of?"
"Yeah. It's got a rainbow on it and everything."
Arthur laughs again and nods to the stool opposite him. "Sit. Pick a smell, any smell."
"Um..." The boy hesitates, looks over the bottles arrayed on Arthur's workspace. "You don't have the grapeseed one, do you?"
"It's been discontinued."
"Shame. My mum used to use it all the time, it smells like home. Okay, never mind. I think...coconut."
"Wise choice. Smells like holidays," Arthur says, and realises that he's slipping into chatting to a customer mode. That is, right until the boy hops onto the stool opposite Arthur, ditches his bag on the floor and holds out a hand.
"I'm Merlin, by the way."
Arthur arches an eyebrow. "Merlin. Really."
"Yes, really. Not my fault my mum's a frustrated hippy."
"She must be so proud," Arthur says, nodding towards the Lush storefront.
"She kills my staff discount getting me to send stuff home for her," Merlin admits, and he wiggles his fingers pointedly until Arthur takes his hand and shakes it briefly. Then he pours hot water into the bowl, along with a squirt of coconut shower gel, swirling his fingers through it, bubbles forming quickly.
"Check it's not too hot," he says, and the boy – Merlin – takes off a couple of silver rings and drops them onto the table before dipping his fingers into the water.
"S'fine. What's your name?"
Arthur takes hold of the boy's left wrist, dips his hand into the water, and washes it quickly. "Arthur," he admits.
"Arthur and Merlin! That's brilliant! I've never met an Arthur before," Merlin says, chattering brightly, his fingers wriggling below Arthur's in the water.
To his own surprise, Arthur finds himself flustered. He has to do this all the time, mainly to teenage girls and middle-aged women who giggle and blush furiously while he touches their hands. He's never bothered by it, but for some reason, this Merlin, complete with ridiculous ears and scarf and name, puts him on edge. It's maybe because men don't really do this, unless Morgana's centre stage. Or maybe it's the way Merlin just studies him quietly through what Arthur can't help noticing are decidedly long, sooty lashes.
Either way, it's fucking awkward, and Arthur clears his throat. "So, how long have you worked there?"
"Oh, only a few weeks. Gwen, the girl I live with, she got me the job, she worked here last year, too. The bookshop I worked in last year closed down so when term started..."
Arthur blinks. He hasn't had a gaydar malfunction like that in years.
"Gwen's your girlfriend?" he checks.
"Oh! No. No, no. Flatmate, that's all."
Ah. Maybe not a malfunction after all.
"So you're a student?" Arthur asks.
Merlin nods as Arthur unscrews the tub of exfoliator and scoops some out on the end of one of the plastic sticks. He smoothes it over Merlin's hands one at a time and tries not to look at the other boy as he answers, "Illustration and animation. What about you?"
"Economics and business studies."
He senses rather than sees Merlin's raised eyebrow and forgets himself a bit, snapping, "Something wrong with that?"
"Do you enjoy it?" Merlin asks mildly.
"Yes," Arthur says defiantly.
"Then no," Merlin says with a smile. "Nothing wrong with it."
Arthur rinses Merlin's hands one final time and then wraps them in a soft white towel, drying them quickly. This is going to be the worst bit. He scoops out a blob of the coconut body butter this time, dividing it evenly between Merlin's upturned palms, rubbing it into his pale skin as fast as he can.
"S'not exactly a massage," Merlin comments. Arthur knows a challenge when he hears it and presses a little harder with his thumbs. Merlin's fingers wiggle in Arthur's hands and he makes the mistake of looking up, their gazes catching. Apparently Merlin's one of these people who can smile with just his eyes, and Arthur finds that he can't look away.
It's Merlin's turn to clear his throat awkwardly and look away, a slight blush colouring his sharp cheekbones. When he looks back, he doesn't quite meet Arthur's eyes as he says, "So, um... You try that stuff I gave you?" in the air of someone desperate for something to say.
"Yes," Arthur says, wrinkling his nose in distaste and turning his attention to Merlin's other hand. "Disgusting. What am I supposed to do with the sugary crap it leaves all over my mouth?"
"Lick it off, obviously," Merlin says, and for some reason, every possible filthy connotation of that leaps into Arthur's mind at once and he has to bite back a smile.
"Yuck," he says, a bit petulant maybe, but it's better than saying why don't you lick it off? "Our strawberry one's much better."
"Yeah?" Merlin asks, and he draws his hands away from Arthur, bringing them up to his face to breathe in the sweet coconut smell.
"Don't believe me?" Arthur asks.
Merlin grins, his eyes twinkling. "Frankly, no."
Arthur pulls an offended face and reaches into one of the drawers in the cabinet, chucking his pot of lip balm over to Merlin. He ignores Merlin's faintly surprised expression in favour of draining the basin into the small tank concealed in cabinet, watching surreptitiously through his eyelashes as Merlin tries it out, sniffing it first.
"Hmm. S'nice. Thanks," he says, nudging the pot back across to Arthur. "So, um. You got long left to work?"
Arthur nods. "Yeah, til closing. How about you?"
"Going to the studio," Merlin says. "I've got a tutorial tomorrow afternoon and my supervisor's a total git. And I'm in second year now, so it actually counts."
Arthur can't help a laugh, because he knows that feeling. "Would you like to me lie and say the pace really slows in third year?"
"Depends. Can you make it convincing?"
Arthur pretends to consider. "Probably not."
"Don't worry about it then," Merlin says with a bright smile. "I fully expect to spend the next two years pulling my hair out anyway, so no harm done."
Arthur watches as Merlin picks up the rings he'd discarded earlier, sliding one onto his thumb and one onto his middle finger. (Really extraordinarily long, slender fingers, Arthur tries not to notice.)
"So what are you going to do with this illustration and animation lark, then?" Arthur asks, seizing on any possible topic.
"Kids' books, hopefully," Merlin says enthusiastically. "That's what I started off drawing, you know? Scenes from my favourite books and stuff. What about you? Where's business and economics going to take you?"
"My dad's company, probably. I work there in the summers, so... Yeah. Probably that."
Even Arthur knows that he usually sounds happier about it than that, but Merlin doesn't remark on it, just giving Arthur another of those smiles that throws his model's cheekbones into sharp relief.
"Well," Merlin says, dragging Arthur's attention away from his face and his smile and his eyes (and Arthur thinks fuck, I might be in trouble here). "That was great, thanks. I should probably let you get back to work."
"Yeah, okay. Good luck with the git."
Merlin laughs loudly. "Thanks. See you around, yeah?"
"Most likely."
Merlin hops down from the stool and hefts his bag up onto one shoulder, heading off in the direction of the campus. When he's a few shops away, he glances back, catches Arthur watching, and raises one hand in a wave.
"Have you finished flirting now?" Morgana asks, appearing from nowhere.
"Jesus, Morgana!" Arthur says, glaring at her. "Warn a bloke, yeah? Also, what?"
"We have CCTV for a reason, Arthur," she says calmly.
Arthur splutters. "What? Yeah, for catching shoplifters, Morgana, not for spying on your own staff. And anyway, I wasn't flirting," he adds belatedly.
"You were clearly flirting," Morgana says flatly. "Which, fine and everything. But not on my time."
"Your time," Arthur mutters as she heads back to the shop. "Bloody woman."
***
Arthur cannot believe he is doing this. Even if what he's actually doing wasn't completely fucking mental, there's also the fact that he's having to tap hitherto unknown depths of ninja abilities so that Morgana doesn't see him going into Lush on his day off.
Mad, he tells himself firmly as he ducks around HMV, past Hotel Chocolat, and into Lush. The smell is overwhelming on the street, but inside it's ridiculous. It's nice enough, but so bloody strong. A quick glance around shows Merlin's nowhere to be seen and Arthur feels his heart sink. The fact that he's not there makes the idea seem even more ridiculous, because now he either has to turn around and walk out, which is weird, or he has to leave the little pot he's clutching in his hand behind the counter for Merlin. Weirder.
Deciding to kill a few seconds looking around and then leave, Arthur can't help smiling when he sees a blue block of something-or-other, a bright rainbow emblazoned on the front. Dorothy, he thinks in amusement, then startles when he hears,
"Hey!"
He turns to see Merlin emerging from the back room, wiping his hands off on the front of his black apron.
"Hi," is all Arthur manages at first, because he's suddenly painfully aware that the girl behind the counter is watching them curiously.
Merlin offers him a smile and says, "Hello."
Arthur hears himself say, "Hi." Again. "Oh. Did that bit, right?"
"Sort of," Merlin agrees.
"Right. Okay. Um. This is for you," Arthur blurts, holding out the pot of grapeseed body butter. "You said you liked it and I do too so I stocked up when we stopped doing it and, um. So. This is for you."
Why the fucking fuck have I lost the ability to talk like a normal person? Arthur asks himself desperately.
Luckily Merlin doesn't seem much better off. He takes the tub from Arthur's hand and looks at it, then glances at Arthur from under his eyelashes like he's waiting for the punchline. When it's not forthcoming, he gets that little flush across his cheekbones and says,
"Thanks," in a soft little voice.
Arthur feels his heart thump hard in his chest and yep. Definitely in so much fucking trouble.
"So," he says, clearing his throat. "I better get out of here before the smell or your boss chokes me."
Merlin laughs again, his eyes going soft. "Alright. Well. Thanks again. You going to work now?"
"No, library," Arthur groans.
Merlin gives him a sympathetic look and claps him on the shoulder. "Good luck, soldier."
"See you," Arthur says.
When Arthur gets outside, his face feels hot and he's honestly having trouble believing that he has the capacity for such stunning awkwardness. Fuck it, he decides. He's probably freaked the boy out so badly that he'll never see him again. At least that'll be an end to the matter and he can stop being haunted by bright blue eyes, soft skin, slender wrists. Yeah.
But then, in the library five hours later, one of those narrow wrists is attached to the hand that sets a cup of terrible vending-machine coffee down in front of Arthur and says, "Hey. There you are."
"Um," Arthur says, looking up from his books. He half wonders if Merlin's a hallucination brought on by too long studying business ethics.
"So, I'm not a stalker," Merlin blurts, and Arthur grins as he realises maybe he doesn't have the monopoly on awkward in this situation. "But Gwen said I could have been nicer earlier, and you said you'd be in the library, so... Do you even drink coffee?"
"This isn't coffee," Arthur points out. "It's dark, tepid water with a little bit of caffeine in it. And hell yeah, I drink it."
Merlin smiles and Arthur can't help thinking that it's a bit charming really, his happy, expressive face. He leans against the side of the booth Arthur's working at and glances at the textbooks stacked neatly in the right hand corner, the single notepad to the left of his laptop.
"Neat freak?" Merlin asks.
"Um. Maybe a bit."
Merlin groans and looks away. "Okay. I really didn't stalk you all the way to the library – "
"Thought you weren't a stalker?"
Merlin waves a dismissive hand and goes on, " – just to call you a freak and make you drink terrible coffee. Here," he says, reaching into his messenger bag and holding a yellow paper bag out towards Arthur. "I don't know if you're a bath or a shower man, but you should be a bath man just for this at least. Also discontinued, also from my own personal stash."
Arthur can't help laughing. "Glad I'm not the only man in the world that does that." He takes the bag and peers inside it to see a large disc, half yellow and half orange. The smell is citrusy, but not obnoxiously so, and he glances up at Merlin. "Thanks."
"S'okay. One good turn and all that." Merlin shifts awkwardly and glances at his watch. "I have to go to the studio, but um. I'll see you, yeah?"
"Yeah, definitely."
Arthur watches Merlin walk away, and this time Merlin looks back, quirking him a smile.
***
They see each other around after that, on campus, or near work, or around town. Arthur has to grudgingly admit that the citrus thing – called a Happy Pill, apparently – made for a pretty good bathing experience. He feels moved to defend his shop's honour, though, so he slips Merlin a small bottle of the White Musk bubble bath. In return he gets a blue and white bubble bar which smells like the inside of a head shop.
The next time he sees Merlin he looks knackered, pasty instead of pale, with bags under his eyes. Arthur slips him a pot of eye cream and says, very seriously, "The vitamin E's an excellent anti-oxidant, and there's shea butter and all that hippy nonsense as well."
The time after that, they're both on the way into work. Merlin looks a lot better, and he jogs over from the front of the shop to shove a tub of body powder into Arthur's hand. "In your honour," he says solemnly. "The hippiest thing we sell, in my humble opinion." Arthur laughs and watches Merlin go, ignoring Morgana's expression of distaste at the sight of the Lush product in his hand. In all honesty, he's grinning too much to really notice.
A few days later, Arthur turns up at work to find Vivian's working as well. She's a nice enough girl, but she does not understand the meaning of the word gay, so Arthur doesn't bitch as much as usual when Morgana packs him off into the back room to do a stock take and place an order. He pops in his headphones and just gets on with it, only emerging when he's fairly sure Viv will have left for her lecture.
"The boy from Lush was in here," Morgana tells him when he finally pokes his head through the door.
Oh God. The idea of Morgana talking to Merlin is really pretty horrifying. "Oh. Um. He was?"
"Yes. You're meeting him in the union when you finish your shift."
Arthur blinks. Great, and everything, but... "He didn't think to ask me?"
"You were busy," Morgana says mildly. "I said you'd do as you were told, anything to put an end to this pathetic attempt of yours to woo him with free samples."
Arthur splutters, says something about, I do not woo, but Morgana just goes on, "He said he should introduce me to his flatmate, and he'd see you there around three."
"Christ on a bike, woman, you are a nightmare. What if I don't want to meet him for a drink?"
"You clearly do," Morgana says. "You're like a twelve year old with a crush. If he had pigtails, you'd pull them."
The matter seems to be settled.
***
Arthur's not nervous when he walks into the student union. He doesn't get nervous. Nonetheless, his heart or something like it thumps in his throat when he catches sight of Merlin perched on a bar stool. Jesus Christ, his legs go on forever, and Arthur immediately finds himself entertaining a dozen filthy notions of those legs wrapped around his waist or slung over his shoulders.
He manages to push the images to one side for long enough to go over and say hi. Merlin gives him that massive grin again, and the first thing he says is,
"So, your boss is pretty fearsome, huh?"
"She's also my cousin, which is why she thinks she can get away with being such a harpy," Arthur explains.
Merlin laughs and nods towards the optics. "You wanna grab a drink and try to find a table?"
"Sure. What're you having?"
"Oh, I didn't mean – "
"I know," Arthur says. "You can get the next round, yeah?"
"Alright. Rum and coke, in that case."
When they find a table tucked in the corner, it's surprisingly easy to talk to Merlin. He's very expressive, with his hands as well as his face, and they only realise time is getting on when a DJ sets up in the corner. The music is bloody awful, and they finish their drinks and head for the exit as quick as they can.
In the amber glow of the streetlights, and through the mild fuzz of a few drinks, Merlin is really quite extraordinarily lovely looking, and Arthur hears himself ask, impulsively, "Hey, do you want to go for some dinner?"
They go for pizza in the end, and a few more drinks in a quiet pub, and around half eleven, Arthur thinks dimly that he hasn't had this much fun with this little effort in ages. When they finally leave the pub, they're both drunk enough that they don't even try to be subtle when they stumble against each other as they walk to the bus station. Before Arthur knows what's happening, he's got his arm around Merlin's waist, and then the next minute he finds himself pressed against the bus stop, Merlin's mouth seeking his urgently. He tastes like tomato from the pizza, and the rum he's been drinking, and mint underneath it. It shouldn't be great but it really, really is. Arthur tangles a hand in Merlin's university hoodie and tugs him closer, shivering a bit when Merlin's hand settles into a caress on the side of his throat.
When they part, Merlin says a bit dazedly, "Ha. Wanted to do that since pretty much the first time I clapped eyes on you."
Arthur can't help smirking. "Good to know."
Merlin groans. "God. You're going to be impossible now, aren't you?"
Arthur steals another kiss instead of replying.
"Y'taste like that strawberry stuff," Merlin tells him. "Nice."
Arthur cups his hand around Merlin's cheek and looks into his eyes, a little soft with drink but bright, bright blue, and honestly happy.
"I – " Arthur starts, not sure what he's going to say. Maybe think you should come home with me and address some of these leg-based fantasies of mine. " – think that's your bus," he says.
"Call me, yeah?" Merlin demands, backing away from Arthur, fumbling his Oyster card out of his pocket.
"Yeah," Arthur says, and when Merlin's bus pulls away, he catches sight of his reflection's ridiculous smile in the window. He doesn't care though, just bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits for his own bus.
***
Three days later, they go for dinner and then watch a late film. At the weekend it's a football match on Saturday, and Merlin insists on an art gallery on Sunday as revenge. They grab coffee in between their lectures, lunch once or twice a week, and much to Morgana's chagrin, the exchange of free samples continues. Before long, Arthur's friends are used to seeing them together, and Arthur's met Gwen, and it's far too soon to feel a ridiculous flutter every time Merlin's name shows up on his phone, but Arthur does.
Then, a couple of weeks in, Merlin's waiting outside the shop when Arthur leaves on his lunch break. They hot-foot it down to the river for an impromptu picnic, and when they're done, Merlin kisses him again, sweet and passionate and increasingly familiar.
"So," Merlin says when he pulls back. "You want to come on a protest with me?"
"A protest?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow as he shoves their rubbish into a bag and dumps it in the bin. "Romantic."
"Shut it. You know they're shutting down the sport services at uni? We're doing a gym-in as a protest, and we thought it'd be a good idea to have someone who actually looks like they use the gym, as well as the skinny art kids."
Arthur blinks. "What the fuck is a gym-in?"
Merlin laughs and grabs Arthur's hand, twining their fingers in some intricate pattern. "We're doing it in shifts. They reckon no one uses the services so they might as well shut them down, so we've got three days planned out, make sure there's at least a few people there all the time."
"Christ," Arthur mutters. "I've taken up with a right do-gooder, haven't I?"
"'fraid so," Merlin says brightly. "So are you coming?"
"Is this just an excuse to get me wearing shorts and sweating?"
"No!" Merlin says defensively. "It's a very serious issue which is indicative of the university's lack of respect for the student body's needs. The shorts and sweating is a bonus."
Arthur laughs and pulls Merlin in to a quick kiss. "Got to run. Text me the times you need me to defend the uni's gym services with my blinding masculinity."
***
"I think I'm going to die," Arthur groans.
He's not exactly unfit, but a three hour gym session three days in a row would knacker anyone. Merlin seems alright, but then he's spent the last three days farting about on the crosstrainer's mildest setting, and none-too-subtly eyeing Arthur.
"Come back to mine for a shower, if you want," Merlin offers. "I'm only five minutes away."
"Is it a ridiculously hot shower?"
Merlin laughs. "Bathroom's the only reason we took the flat. It's great. Come here, let me grab your bag."
"I might just stay here and meld with the bench."
"Up," Merlin orders, wrapping his hands around Arthur's arm and tugging. "Up, up, up, come on."
Arthur groans theatrically and lets Merlin drag him to his feet. "You don't need to carry my bag," he says grudgingly. "I'm not some fainting maiden."
"But I am so very chivalrous," Merlin teases, hefting both bags onto his shoulder and pretending to stagger under their weight. Arthur laughs and slings his arm around Merlin's waist, unable to resist the temptation to press a kiss to his temple.
Merlin's flat really is only five minutes away, and the bathroom really is bloody marvellous. There's a huge bath for one thing, and even as Arthur turns up the temperature and the pressure in the shower cubicle, he can't help thinking that the bath would fit them both easily. Pushing the thoughts to one side, he grabs the slab of dark green soap, pleasantly surprised when he recognises the apple and mint scent as something he's come to associate with Merlin.
Arthur thinks he could probably spend hours in the shower if the hot water didn't give out, but he resists the temptation and gets out fairly quickly, knotting a towel around his waist. Merlin's waiting in the kitchen, and Arthur certainly isn't imagining the way Merlin's eyes rove over him for a long moment before he flushes and swallows audibly.
"Um. My room's on the left if you want to change," he says. "I'll just grab a quick shower and be back in five minutes, okay?"
"Yeah, cool."
When Merlin moves towards the bathroom, Arthur thinks fuck it, and pulls him in for a long kiss, taking his time to taste Merlin's mouth, suck gently on his lower lip.
"Okay, fuck," Merlin says when they part, pressing his forehead to Arthur's, his hands warm on Arthur's lower back. "Don't tempt me, okay?"
Arthur laughs and pushes Merlin playfully towards the bathroom. "Don't be long, yeah? I'll get lonesome."
Apparently Merlin's the only person in the world for whom 'five minute shower' actually means 'five minute shower'. So Arthur's kind of busted because he's changed into clean jogging bottoms and then thought fuck it and flopped down onto Merlin's bed. Merlin doesn't seem to mind, judging by the quietly strangled noise he makes when he walks into the room.
"Tired?" he asks.
Arthur turns his face into Merlin's pillow and shrugs. "Sore."
"You fancy a back rub?"
"Is that a euphemism?" Arthur asks, glancing over his shoulder. He can't help a twinge of regret for not looking earlier when he realises Merlin's already in jeans, scrubbing his hair with a towel.
He shoots Arthur an incredulous look and says, a bit too innocently, "No! Well. It might become one. Budge up," he says, and Arthur shuffles over far enough to let Merlin sit on the edge of the mattress. "Wanna know a secret?"
"Sure, okay," Arthur says lazily.
"I have magic hands," Merlin says, wiggling his fingers and grinning mischievously.
Arthur laughs and turns his face back into the pillow – because it's comfortable, by the way, not because it smells like whatever spicy shampoo Merlin uses. "Go on, then," he says, his voice muffled. "Wow me."
Merlin chuckles and runs a hand up the length of Arthur's spine before he stands up, the movement shifting the bed. Arthur hears the clatter of a drawer opening and closing, but barring the ache in his shoulders, he's so extraordinarily comfortable that he can't be bothered to look around. The bed shifts again and Arthur presses his face deeper into the pillows when soft pressure on the outside of his legs makes it clear that Merlin is kneeling astride his thighs.
He feels Merlin drag something slick and solid down his back, then across his shoulders, along his ribs, releasing a burst of fragrance that's somewhere between floral and musky. It's oddly pleasant, and that's before Merlin even sets his hands to Arthur's skin. Arthur sinks more comfortably into the bed with a sigh and Merlin chuckles.
"Nice?"
"Yeah. What is that?"
"Um." Merlin sounds amused. "Massage bar. It's called Business Time."
Arthur turns his head enough to shoot Merlin a teasing look. "For getting down to business, by any chance?"
"That is what the blurb suggests," Merlin admits.
"Hmm." Arthur shuts his eyes and lets himself relax. It's not a massage in the traditional sense of the word really, not after the first couple of minutes. It's more Merlin spreading his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, occasionally bending down to scatter kisses across the back of Arthur's neck. Of course, Arthur's not exactly going to complain about that.
A while later (Arthur really has no idea how long) Merlin shifts and says, "Turn over so I can do your front?"
"Not why I wanna turn over," Arthur admits.
Merlin laughs a bit shakily and says, "Oh, thank God."
Then they're both moving in a flurry of limbs, awkward but worth it when Merlin ends up in Arthur's lap. Arthur can't believe how hungry he is for it, verging on desperate. Merlin has no complaints, though, his mouth latching onto the angle of Arthur's jaw one moment, scattering kisses over his face the next. For his part, Arthur finds Merlin's bare skin delightful, the lean, sleek muscles of his arms, the perfect stretch of his spine, all so lovely they make his head swim.
He moves to kiss Merlin's neck instead, licking and biting down to his collarbones. When he gets there, Merlin throws his head back and groans, low and throaty. Weak spot, Arthur thinks triumphantly.
"I thought – " Merlin starts, breaking off to drag his short nails down the back of Arthur's neck, a delicious sting. "Thought you wanted to take it slow."
Arthur pulls back to look at him, incredulous. "What the fuck gave you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you haven't strayed below the waist once?"
"What can I say? I'm a gent," Arthur says between kisses. "Was waiting for you."
Merlin laughs. "Alright, we're dumb," he says. Arthur's about to agree when Merlin's hand sneaks under the waistband of his jogging bottoms, long fingers quick and clever. It can't take Merlin more than a second to realise that his hands and his kisses and his warm weight wriggling in Arthur's lap have left Arthur so hard he feels like he could drill through walls. Merlin draws his hand back, licks a shine of precome off his thumb, and that's it. Arthur's fragile patience snaps and he uses his weight advantage to shift their positions, pressing Merlin into the bed and kissing him, hot and sloppy, his hands jerking at the buttons on Merlin's jeans. It's easy to get them both naked, and the slide of skin when Arthur presses their bodies together is intoxicating.
Merlin lifts Arthur's hand to his mouth, sucks two of his fingers in to the knuckle, and Arthur thinks that's pretty much an invitation. He slides his fingers out, deliberately slow, pulling Merlin's already full lower lip into a pout.
"You better get them good and wet," he says, amazed that his voice is actually almost steady.
Merlin sucks his fingers back in, three of them this time, his tongue wriggling between then, sucking hard. Arthur can imagine all too clearly the way it would look and feel if that was his prick instead. He strokes his free hand down the side of Merlin's face, feels the stretch of his lips. It's the work of a moment to slide down the length of Merlin's body, only distracted for a second by the smattering of dark hair and the jut of his hips. Merlin hooks a leg over Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur's gratified to realise it feels as good as he'd imagined.
Arthur might be eager, but he's not an idiot, so he ignores the way Merlin tilts his hips upward in favour of asking,
"Will that be enough? Do you have any – "
"Fine, s'fine," Merlin interrupts. "Come on..."
Arthur uses his shoulders to nudge Merlin's legs further apart and finds he has to take a moment just to breathe. Merlin is one delicious contrast after another. Dark hair against flushed cheeks, a sliver of bright blue around blown, black pupils, dark cock against pale white skin. Then Merlin knocks his knee against Arthur and says, with a soft affectionate smile,
"Hey."
And then the contrast is between the dirty, urgent heat of the situation, and Merlin's sweet, warm nature. Shaking himself, Arthur reaches down to stroke his wet fingers over the skin behind Merlin's balls – hot, tight – and then lower, to the tightly furled entrance hidden away there. Merlin jolts at the first touch, and then tangles his fingers into the sheets. He lets out a long, pleased sigh when Arthur pushes forward, just his fingertip sliding into the grasping heat of Merlin's body.
Arthur turns his head blindly and ends up kissing Merlin's thigh. His skin is hot and fresh, a tang of salt overlaying it, and it makes Arthur's teeth itch to bite down, suck a livid bruise onto Merlin's skin that won't fade for days. He's already imagining Merlin, later, alone, pressing his fingers to the mark and breathing shakily. Arthur restrains himself though, leaning down to lick a path up the underside of Merlin's cock, getting a shocked shout in reply. He has to use his free hand to hold Merlin down, and they both give a choked groan at the sensation.
Arthur mouths at the head of Merlin's cock as he carefully slides another finger in, taste bursting on his tongue. Merlin's heel presses hard into his back and he babbles something incomprehensible, his hand skittering across Arthur's shoulder, up to cup the back of his neck, a wordless plea for more. Arthur gives it to him and fuck, he really wishes he had a hand free, cause there's a very real possibility that Merlin like this is the sexiest thing in the fucking world. The tastes and the sounds and, Christ, every single fucking thing about it, make Arthur's head swim with lust. He knows he has to be careful though, spit won't be enough to ease the way for the kind of finger-fucking he wants to give Merlin.
Arthur takes Merlin further into his mouth in lieu of driving his fingers deeper, working his tongue against the underside of Merlin's cock and then he's shifting, pulling Arthur's hair, his hips lifting to meet Arthur's mouth, deliberately working Arthur's fingers deeper, and he's pretty sure some of the mangled words that Merlin's garbling are yes and more and please, naked desperation on his face when Arthur pulls away.
"I'm not going to fuck you this time," Arthur says boldly, replacing his mouth with his hand and Merlin groans, desperate and pleading. "No, no, not this time. I just wanna watch you fall apart, make you come all over yourself."
"Oh, fuck," Merlin breathes. "Fuh – uh – uck."
"Yeah," Arthur coaxes, licking a path up Merlin's hip, adding a wicked twist to the way he's stroking. "Come on, do it. Show me. Wanna see what you look like when you're totally out of your head."
Merlin grabs helplessly at Arthur's shoulder, short nails digging into his skin, and whimpers breathlessly, "Arthur – fuck – "
Arthur dips his head, overcome by the need to leave a mark on Merlin. He sets his teeth to the skin above Merlin's left hip, on the opposite side of his body from the little red dragon tattoo – bloody Welsh pride, honestly. He worries the skin gently for a moment before he bites down properly. Merlin's spine bows impressively, shaking Arthur off, and he's actually silent when he comes, a startling contrast to the moaning and crying of seconds ago. Arthur strokes him through it, watches the white stripes splatter across Merlin's abdomen.
Merlin heaves a few deep breaths and then, quicker than Arthur was expecting, hauls himself half upright, pawing at Arthur a bit clumsily until Arthur grabs his hand and directs it to where he wants it most. Merlin has long, slender artist's fingers that have featured heavily in Arthur's fantasies for the last few weeks, and they wrap easily around Arthur's length, slim and skilful.
He kisses Arthur's neck and murmurs, "That was fucking fantastic. Knew it would be just from looking at you. Can't wait for you to fuck me," he confesses, squeezing in a way that makes Arthur gasp, and then kissing his open mouth, lewd and filthy and so fucking good.
"Christ yeah," Merlin says, then breaks off to lift his hand to his mouth, licking his palm and reaching down again. "You thinking about it? Fucking me, filling me over and over. You want me on my knees for you, or – "
Arthur dives both hands into Merlin's hair, needing something to hang onto, and he breathes raggedly against Merlin's mouth. Merlin's languid and easy, humming when Arthur nips at his lip, letting Arthur tilt his head to one side, biting down the corded muscles in his neck.
"Mmm. You're a biter, aren't you?" Merlin asks, and Arthur makes a half-apologetic noise, reaching down to tangle his fingers with Merlin's as they stroke. "S'okay, I like that," Merlin goes on, arching his neck, giving Arthur better access. Arthur gives in to the temptation happily, mapping a path up the length of Merlin's throat, along the sharp angle of his jaw.
Merlin presses closer and tightens his hand, starts imitating the wicked twisting motion Arthur had used on him earlier. Arthur's helpless, mouthing wetly against Merlin's neck, clutching helplessly at his back.
"Fuck, yeah, come on, I wanna – "
Arthur never gets to hear what Merlin wants to do, because as he's speaking, Merlin reaches down and cups his bollocks, and just that one touch is enough to set Arthur off. He'd be embarrassed at getting off so quickly from a simple handjob, but he genuinely cannot bring himself to care. Merlin kisses him afterwards, wipes his sticky hand on Arthur's chest and pointedly ignores his protest.
Merlin flops down onto the mattress , his head hanging off the end of the bed, a sated grin on what Arthur can see of his face. Arthur just laughs and pats Merlin's stomach companionably. He already feels comfortable enough in Merlin's space to get up and pad off to the bathroom to clean up quickly, returning with a damp cloth. Merlin's still sprawled in the same position and he groans when Arthur chucks the cloth onto his stomach.
"Oh, God. You're not one of these freaks that's actually functional after sex, are you?"
"Semi-functional," Arthur admits.
"Don't be such a weirdo," Merlin says, sounding sleepy.
Arthur tuts. "I see through you, you know?"
"Hmm?"
In answer, Arthur kneels over Merlin, cleaning him gently but efficiently, muttering, told you so when Merlin makes a happy noise in response to the attention. Arthur chucks the cloth onto a free corner of Merlin's desk and manhandles him up into a kiss.
"Stop functioning," Merlin protests. "Come on, let's just have a nap, yeah?"
The bed's small, narrow, and it's awkward until Arthur – giving Merlin very little choice in the matter – rearranges them, Merlin slotted neatly between his legs, his head pillowed on Arthur's chest.
"Wouldn't have had you pegged for a cuddler," Merlin says a little bit later, but he sounds pleasantly surprised.
"No?"
Merlin yawns against his chest and his fingers fidget over Arthur's hip. "Y'seem too straight for that."
"Merlin. I work in the Body Shop, carry lip balm at all times, and just in case you've lost the brainpower to remember, give a rather spectacular blowjob. I don't think I'm too straight for anything."
He gets only a sleepy chuckle in return and runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Merlin's neck, where it curls towards his nape.
They wake up just long enough to order a takeaway, watch the news, and fall into bed again. Because they're tired after Merlin's bloody gym-in, not because Arthur secretly likes the way Merlin's single bed forces them to cling to each other. Merlin snores, which is bloody annoying usually, but Merlin does it like a cat or something, all sighs and surprised little snuffles, and Arthur's last thought is that it's actually pretty hilarious.
>> part b
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Crumble fic under running water, and be sure to suspend disbelief before bathing. An epic tale of awkwardness, daft boys, and love as expressed through bathing products (yes, you read that right. Bathing products). With bonus arts.
Disclaimer: Oh, God. So not mine. I do spend so much money in Body Shop and Lush that I feel entitled to shares, though.
Word Count: 11500
Notes: Originally written for
nuclearsugars's birthday so I feel bad about blaming her for the ridiculousness. Oh wait, no I don't. BB, this is entirely your fault <3 Thanks to brighty18 for the beta.Can be read in one part at AO3: HERE
It's quiet today, and Arthur's got a textbook open on the counter, out of sight of any customers who should wander in, desperately trying to fill his head with Kant's moral philosophy before the in-class test next week.
"Arthur!" Morgana yells from the back room.
She's a pain in the arse, but she's not Kant's second formulation, so Arthur's actually quite cheery as he calls, "What?"
"Care to explain why some skinny, half-naked oik is demonstrating Lush products outside the shop?"
"What?"
The Lush store is almost directly opposite The Body Shop, and it's a bit of a running joke that the staff in each place will do everything they can to tempt people away from the other shop. This is a bit much though, and Arthur slams his book shut, heading quickly out of the shop. Sure enough, there is a skinny half-naked oik standing at a small, wheeled table, equipped with a large basin of water, gleefully showing off fizzy, bubbly things from Lush.
"Oi!" Arthur yells. "You can't bloody poach customers from right outside my shop!"
The boy turns around hastily, and Arthur has time to notice the wide brown swathe of something almost muddy looking across the boy's chest, the smear of something pale lilac across one cheek, before his breath catches momentarily in his throat. The boy has ridiculously blue eyes. Ridiculously blue. And cheekbones that are only emphasised more when he gives an impish grin and says with the slightest trace of a Welsh accent, "Hey, free market, mate. It's shit, but it's the only game in town."
"Seriously, get out of here," Arthur says, just about resisting the urge to add, scat.
Blue-eyes turns back to the gathered crowd and starts collecting his products with quick hands, all the time saying, "Okay, Ladies, Gents, the man says I have to move on now, so if you'd care to follow me – "
"Free samples," Arthur blurts. "It's free sample day here at Body Shop so come on in, have a look around, leave this urchin to get cleaned up and moved along before the men in white coats turn up."
Blue-eyes glares at him for a moment, then grins when the crowd splits pretty evenly in half.
"Hey," he says, and tosses something towards Arthur. Arthur catches it reflexively and finds himself looking at a tiny pot of bright pink crystals.
"What the – "
"Kissably soft lips, guaranteed," the boy says, with an outrageous wink before leading the younger, hippier contingent of the crowd off towards Lush.
***
Arthur knows he's in for a bad day when he turns up for his shift to see Morgana setting up the small wheeled cabinet they use when they're demonstrating hand massages, facials, and makeup advice.
"Oh, no," he says, because the glint in her eye leaves him in no doubt as to what she's planning.
Sure enough, she just smiles thinly and says, "Oh, yes. That idiot boy from Lush was here again yesterday, and Sophia was too stupid to chase him off."
"Don't take it out on me," Arthur mutters.
"Arthur, it's not personal. It's strictly business."
Arthur glares at her. "You are not the Godfather, Morgana."
She shrugs like that's totally irrelevant, and goes on, "In technical terms, that boy is taking the piss. And what do we do, Arthur?" she asks. "We fight fire with fire. So. Off you go."
"Oh, God," Arthur groans. "Fine."
He sets the cabinet up outside the shop, only for Morgana to appear in the doorway and glare until he drags the whole thing closer to Lush.
He gives hand massages to a pair of middle-aged women, and makeup and skincare advice to three giggling teenage girls. All of them walk into the shop afterwards, and come out with bags a bit later. Just when Arthur's starting to think it might not be that bad after all (it's a nice day, lots of his mates will be passing this way on their route to uni, and he's out of reach of Morgana's vicious-chest-poking style of management), everything goes to hell.
"Hi."
Arthur looks up to see the blue-eyed boy from the other day. "Oh, Christ."
He holds his hands up in a gesture of appeasement. "I'm off duty, I swear."
Arthur looks closer and sure enough, the boy's wearing a typical student outfit, jeans and a faded black t-shirt, a weird red scarf knotted casually around his neck. "What do you want?" Arthur asks, still not exactly of a mind to be friendly.
"Hand, er...massage, right?" he asks, glancing at the bowl and bottles in front of Arthur. The hand job crack goes unspoken for once.
"Believe me, I've heard every joke you'd care to make," Arthur says.
"Oh, please," the boy tuts. "You don't sell products called Sex in the Shower, Dorothy, Tramp..."
Arthur can't help laughing. "Dorothy? Seriously? As in friend of?"
"Yeah. It's got a rainbow on it and everything."
Arthur laughs again and nods to the stool opposite him. "Sit. Pick a smell, any smell."
"Um..." The boy hesitates, looks over the bottles arrayed on Arthur's workspace. "You don't have the grapeseed one, do you?"
"It's been discontinued."
"Shame. My mum used to use it all the time, it smells like home. Okay, never mind. I think...coconut."
"Wise choice. Smells like holidays," Arthur says, and realises that he's slipping into chatting to a customer mode. That is, right until the boy hops onto the stool opposite Arthur, ditches his bag on the floor and holds out a hand.
"I'm Merlin, by the way."
Arthur arches an eyebrow. "Merlin. Really."
"Yes, really. Not my fault my mum's a frustrated hippy."
"She must be so proud," Arthur says, nodding towards the Lush storefront.
"She kills my staff discount getting me to send stuff home for her," Merlin admits, and he wiggles his fingers pointedly until Arthur takes his hand and shakes it briefly. Then he pours hot water into the bowl, along with a squirt of coconut shower gel, swirling his fingers through it, bubbles forming quickly.
"Check it's not too hot," he says, and the boy – Merlin – takes off a couple of silver rings and drops them onto the table before dipping his fingers into the water.
"S'fine. What's your name?"
Arthur takes hold of the boy's left wrist, dips his hand into the water, and washes it quickly. "Arthur," he admits.
"Arthur and Merlin! That's brilliant! I've never met an Arthur before," Merlin says, chattering brightly, his fingers wriggling below Arthur's in the water.
To his own surprise, Arthur finds himself flustered. He has to do this all the time, mainly to teenage girls and middle-aged women who giggle and blush furiously while he touches their hands. He's never bothered by it, but for some reason, this Merlin, complete with ridiculous ears and scarf and name, puts him on edge. It's maybe because men don't really do this, unless Morgana's centre stage. Or maybe it's the way Merlin just studies him quietly through what Arthur can't help noticing are decidedly long, sooty lashes.
Either way, it's fucking awkward, and Arthur clears his throat. "So, how long have you worked there?"
"Oh, only a few weeks. Gwen, the girl I live with, she got me the job, she worked here last year, too. The bookshop I worked in last year closed down so when term started..."
Arthur blinks. He hasn't had a gaydar malfunction like that in years.
"Gwen's your girlfriend?" he checks.
"Oh! No. No, no. Flatmate, that's all."
Ah. Maybe not a malfunction after all.
"So you're a student?" Arthur asks.
Merlin nods as Arthur unscrews the tub of exfoliator and scoops some out on the end of one of the plastic sticks. He smoothes it over Merlin's hands one at a time and tries not to look at the other boy as he answers, "Illustration and animation. What about you?"
"Economics and business studies."
He senses rather than sees Merlin's raised eyebrow and forgets himself a bit, snapping, "Something wrong with that?"
"Do you enjoy it?" Merlin asks mildly.
"Yes," Arthur says defiantly.
"Then no," Merlin says with a smile. "Nothing wrong with it."
Arthur rinses Merlin's hands one final time and then wraps them in a soft white towel, drying them quickly. This is going to be the worst bit. He scoops out a blob of the coconut body butter this time, dividing it evenly between Merlin's upturned palms, rubbing it into his pale skin as fast as he can.
"S'not exactly a massage," Merlin comments. Arthur knows a challenge when he hears it and presses a little harder with his thumbs. Merlin's fingers wiggle in Arthur's hands and he makes the mistake of looking up, their gazes catching. Apparently Merlin's one of these people who can smile with just his eyes, and Arthur finds that he can't look away.
It's Merlin's turn to clear his throat awkwardly and look away, a slight blush colouring his sharp cheekbones. When he looks back, he doesn't quite meet Arthur's eyes as he says, "So, um... You try that stuff I gave you?" in the air of someone desperate for something to say.
"Yes," Arthur says, wrinkling his nose in distaste and turning his attention to Merlin's other hand. "Disgusting. What am I supposed to do with the sugary crap it leaves all over my mouth?"
"Lick it off, obviously," Merlin says, and for some reason, every possible filthy connotation of that leaps into Arthur's mind at once and he has to bite back a smile.
"Yuck," he says, a bit petulant maybe, but it's better than saying why don't you lick it off? "Our strawberry one's much better."
"Yeah?" Merlin asks, and he draws his hands away from Arthur, bringing them up to his face to breathe in the sweet coconut smell.
"Don't believe me?" Arthur asks.
Merlin grins, his eyes twinkling. "Frankly, no."
Arthur pulls an offended face and reaches into one of the drawers in the cabinet, chucking his pot of lip balm over to Merlin. He ignores Merlin's faintly surprised expression in favour of draining the basin into the small tank concealed in cabinet, watching surreptitiously through his eyelashes as Merlin tries it out, sniffing it first.
"Hmm. S'nice. Thanks," he says, nudging the pot back across to Arthur. "So, um. You got long left to work?"
Arthur nods. "Yeah, til closing. How about you?"
"Going to the studio," Merlin says. "I've got a tutorial tomorrow afternoon and my supervisor's a total git. And I'm in second year now, so it actually counts."
Arthur can't help a laugh, because he knows that feeling. "Would you like to me lie and say the pace really slows in third year?"
"Depends. Can you make it convincing?"
Arthur pretends to consider. "Probably not."
"Don't worry about it then," Merlin says with a bright smile. "I fully expect to spend the next two years pulling my hair out anyway, so no harm done."
Arthur watches as Merlin picks up the rings he'd discarded earlier, sliding one onto his thumb and one onto his middle finger. (Really extraordinarily long, slender fingers, Arthur tries not to notice.)
"So what are you going to do with this illustration and animation lark, then?" Arthur asks, seizing on any possible topic.
"Kids' books, hopefully," Merlin says enthusiastically. "That's what I started off drawing, you know? Scenes from my favourite books and stuff. What about you? Where's business and economics going to take you?"
"My dad's company, probably. I work there in the summers, so... Yeah. Probably that."
Even Arthur knows that he usually sounds happier about it than that, but Merlin doesn't remark on it, just giving Arthur another of those smiles that throws his model's cheekbones into sharp relief.
"Well," Merlin says, dragging Arthur's attention away from his face and his smile and his eyes (and Arthur thinks fuck, I might be in trouble here). "That was great, thanks. I should probably let you get back to work."
"Yeah, okay. Good luck with the git."
Merlin laughs loudly. "Thanks. See you around, yeah?"
"Most likely."
Merlin hops down from the stool and hefts his bag up onto one shoulder, heading off in the direction of the campus. When he's a few shops away, he glances back, catches Arthur watching, and raises one hand in a wave.
"Have you finished flirting now?" Morgana asks, appearing from nowhere.
"Jesus, Morgana!" Arthur says, glaring at her. "Warn a bloke, yeah? Also, what?"
"We have CCTV for a reason, Arthur," she says calmly.
Arthur splutters. "What? Yeah, for catching shoplifters, Morgana, not for spying on your own staff. And anyway, I wasn't flirting," he adds belatedly.
"You were clearly flirting," Morgana says flatly. "Which, fine and everything. But not on my time."
"Your time," Arthur mutters as she heads back to the shop. "Bloody woman."
***
Arthur cannot believe he is doing this. Even if what he's actually doing wasn't completely fucking mental, there's also the fact that he's having to tap hitherto unknown depths of ninja abilities so that Morgana doesn't see him going into Lush on his day off.
Mad, he tells himself firmly as he ducks around HMV, past Hotel Chocolat, and into Lush. The smell is overwhelming on the street, but inside it's ridiculous. It's nice enough, but so bloody strong. A quick glance around shows Merlin's nowhere to be seen and Arthur feels his heart sink. The fact that he's not there makes the idea seem even more ridiculous, because now he either has to turn around and walk out, which is weird, or he has to leave the little pot he's clutching in his hand behind the counter for Merlin. Weirder.
Deciding to kill a few seconds looking around and then leave, Arthur can't help smiling when he sees a blue block of something-or-other, a bright rainbow emblazoned on the front. Dorothy, he thinks in amusement, then startles when he hears,
"Hey!"
He turns to see Merlin emerging from the back room, wiping his hands off on the front of his black apron.
"Hi," is all Arthur manages at first, because he's suddenly painfully aware that the girl behind the counter is watching them curiously.
Merlin offers him a smile and says, "Hello."
Arthur hears himself say, "Hi." Again. "Oh. Did that bit, right?"
"Sort of," Merlin agrees.
"Right. Okay. Um. This is for you," Arthur blurts, holding out the pot of grapeseed body butter. "You said you liked it and I do too so I stocked up when we stopped doing it and, um. So. This is for you."
Why the fucking fuck have I lost the ability to talk like a normal person? Arthur asks himself desperately.
Luckily Merlin doesn't seem much better off. He takes the tub from Arthur's hand and looks at it, then glances at Arthur from under his eyelashes like he's waiting for the punchline. When it's not forthcoming, he gets that little flush across his cheekbones and says,
"Thanks," in a soft little voice.
Arthur feels his heart thump hard in his chest and yep. Definitely in so much fucking trouble.
"So," he says, clearing his throat. "I better get out of here before the smell or your boss chokes me."
Merlin laughs again, his eyes going soft. "Alright. Well. Thanks again. You going to work now?"
"No, library," Arthur groans.
Merlin gives him a sympathetic look and claps him on the shoulder. "Good luck, soldier."
"See you," Arthur says.
When Arthur gets outside, his face feels hot and he's honestly having trouble believing that he has the capacity for such stunning awkwardness. Fuck it, he decides. He's probably freaked the boy out so badly that he'll never see him again. At least that'll be an end to the matter and he can stop being haunted by bright blue eyes, soft skin, slender wrists. Yeah.
But then, in the library five hours later, one of those narrow wrists is attached to the hand that sets a cup of terrible vending-machine coffee down in front of Arthur and says, "Hey. There you are."
"Um," Arthur says, looking up from his books. He half wonders if Merlin's a hallucination brought on by too long studying business ethics.
"So, I'm not a stalker," Merlin blurts, and Arthur grins as he realises maybe he doesn't have the monopoly on awkward in this situation. "But Gwen said I could have been nicer earlier, and you said you'd be in the library, so... Do you even drink coffee?"
"This isn't coffee," Arthur points out. "It's dark, tepid water with a little bit of caffeine in it. And hell yeah, I drink it."
Merlin smiles and Arthur can't help thinking that it's a bit charming really, his happy, expressive face. He leans against the side of the booth Arthur's working at and glances at the textbooks stacked neatly in the right hand corner, the single notepad to the left of his laptop.
"Neat freak?" Merlin asks.
"Um. Maybe a bit."
Merlin groans and looks away. "Okay. I really didn't stalk you all the way to the library – "
"Thought you weren't a stalker?"
Merlin waves a dismissive hand and goes on, " – just to call you a freak and make you drink terrible coffee. Here," he says, reaching into his messenger bag and holding a yellow paper bag out towards Arthur. "I don't know if you're a bath or a shower man, but you should be a bath man just for this at least. Also discontinued, also from my own personal stash."
Arthur can't help laughing. "Glad I'm not the only man in the world that does that." He takes the bag and peers inside it to see a large disc, half yellow and half orange. The smell is citrusy, but not obnoxiously so, and he glances up at Merlin. "Thanks."
"S'okay. One good turn and all that." Merlin shifts awkwardly and glances at his watch. "I have to go to the studio, but um. I'll see you, yeah?"
"Yeah, definitely."
Arthur watches Merlin walk away, and this time Merlin looks back, quirking him a smile.
***
They see each other around after that, on campus, or near work, or around town. Arthur has to grudgingly admit that the citrus thing – called a Happy Pill, apparently – made for a pretty good bathing experience. He feels moved to defend his shop's honour, though, so he slips Merlin a small bottle of the White Musk bubble bath. In return he gets a blue and white bubble bar which smells like the inside of a head shop.
The next time he sees Merlin he looks knackered, pasty instead of pale, with bags under his eyes. Arthur slips him a pot of eye cream and says, very seriously, "The vitamin E's an excellent anti-oxidant, and there's shea butter and all that hippy nonsense as well."
The time after that, they're both on the way into work. Merlin looks a lot better, and he jogs over from the front of the shop to shove a tub of body powder into Arthur's hand. "In your honour," he says solemnly. "The hippiest thing we sell, in my humble opinion." Arthur laughs and watches Merlin go, ignoring Morgana's expression of distaste at the sight of the Lush product in his hand. In all honesty, he's grinning too much to really notice.
A few days later, Arthur turns up at work to find Vivian's working as well. She's a nice enough girl, but she does not understand the meaning of the word gay, so Arthur doesn't bitch as much as usual when Morgana packs him off into the back room to do a stock take and place an order. He pops in his headphones and just gets on with it, only emerging when he's fairly sure Viv will have left for her lecture.
"The boy from Lush was in here," Morgana tells him when he finally pokes his head through the door.
Oh God. The idea of Morgana talking to Merlin is really pretty horrifying. "Oh. Um. He was?"
"Yes. You're meeting him in the union when you finish your shift."
Arthur blinks. Great, and everything, but... "He didn't think to ask me?"
"You were busy," Morgana says mildly. "I said you'd do as you were told, anything to put an end to this pathetic attempt of yours to woo him with free samples."
Arthur splutters, says something about, I do not woo, but Morgana just goes on, "He said he should introduce me to his flatmate, and he'd see you there around three."
"Christ on a bike, woman, you are a nightmare. What if I don't want to meet him for a drink?"
"You clearly do," Morgana says. "You're like a twelve year old with a crush. If he had pigtails, you'd pull them."
The matter seems to be settled.
***
Arthur's not nervous when he walks into the student union. He doesn't get nervous. Nonetheless, his heart or something like it thumps in his throat when he catches sight of Merlin perched on a bar stool. Jesus Christ, his legs go on forever, and Arthur immediately finds himself entertaining a dozen filthy notions of those legs wrapped around his waist or slung over his shoulders.
He manages to push the images to one side for long enough to go over and say hi. Merlin gives him that massive grin again, and the first thing he says is,
"So, your boss is pretty fearsome, huh?"
"She's also my cousin, which is why she thinks she can get away with being such a harpy," Arthur explains.
Merlin laughs and nods towards the optics. "You wanna grab a drink and try to find a table?"
"Sure. What're you having?"
"Oh, I didn't mean – "
"I know," Arthur says. "You can get the next round, yeah?"
"Alright. Rum and coke, in that case."
When they find a table tucked in the corner, it's surprisingly easy to talk to Merlin. He's very expressive, with his hands as well as his face, and they only realise time is getting on when a DJ sets up in the corner. The music is bloody awful, and they finish their drinks and head for the exit as quick as they can.
In the amber glow of the streetlights, and through the mild fuzz of a few drinks, Merlin is really quite extraordinarily lovely looking, and Arthur hears himself ask, impulsively, "Hey, do you want to go for some dinner?"
They go for pizza in the end, and a few more drinks in a quiet pub, and around half eleven, Arthur thinks dimly that he hasn't had this much fun with this little effort in ages. When they finally leave the pub, they're both drunk enough that they don't even try to be subtle when they stumble against each other as they walk to the bus station. Before Arthur knows what's happening, he's got his arm around Merlin's waist, and then the next minute he finds himself pressed against the bus stop, Merlin's mouth seeking his urgently. He tastes like tomato from the pizza, and the rum he's been drinking, and mint underneath it. It shouldn't be great but it really, really is. Arthur tangles a hand in Merlin's university hoodie and tugs him closer, shivering a bit when Merlin's hand settles into a caress on the side of his throat.
When they part, Merlin says a bit dazedly, "Ha. Wanted to do that since pretty much the first time I clapped eyes on you."
Arthur can't help smirking. "Good to know."
Merlin groans. "God. You're going to be impossible now, aren't you?"
Arthur steals another kiss instead of replying.
"Y'taste like that strawberry stuff," Merlin tells him. "Nice."
Arthur cups his hand around Merlin's cheek and looks into his eyes, a little soft with drink but bright, bright blue, and honestly happy.
"I – " Arthur starts, not sure what he's going to say. Maybe think you should come home with me and address some of these leg-based fantasies of mine. " – think that's your bus," he says.
"Call me, yeah?" Merlin demands, backing away from Arthur, fumbling his Oyster card out of his pocket.
"Yeah," Arthur says, and when Merlin's bus pulls away, he catches sight of his reflection's ridiculous smile in the window. He doesn't care though, just bounces on the balls of his feet while he waits for his own bus.
***
Three days later, they go for dinner and then watch a late film. At the weekend it's a football match on Saturday, and Merlin insists on an art gallery on Sunday as revenge. They grab coffee in between their lectures, lunch once or twice a week, and much to Morgana's chagrin, the exchange of free samples continues. Before long, Arthur's friends are used to seeing them together, and Arthur's met Gwen, and it's far too soon to feel a ridiculous flutter every time Merlin's name shows up on his phone, but Arthur does.
Then, a couple of weeks in, Merlin's waiting outside the shop when Arthur leaves on his lunch break. They hot-foot it down to the river for an impromptu picnic, and when they're done, Merlin kisses him again, sweet and passionate and increasingly familiar.
"So," Merlin says when he pulls back. "You want to come on a protest with me?"
"A protest?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow as he shoves their rubbish into a bag and dumps it in the bin. "Romantic."
"Shut it. You know they're shutting down the sport services at uni? We're doing a gym-in as a protest, and we thought it'd be a good idea to have someone who actually looks like they use the gym, as well as the skinny art kids."
Arthur blinks. "What the fuck is a gym-in?"
Merlin laughs and grabs Arthur's hand, twining their fingers in some intricate pattern. "We're doing it in shifts. They reckon no one uses the services so they might as well shut them down, so we've got three days planned out, make sure there's at least a few people there all the time."
"Christ," Arthur mutters. "I've taken up with a right do-gooder, haven't I?"
"'fraid so," Merlin says brightly. "So are you coming?"
"Is this just an excuse to get me wearing shorts and sweating?"
"No!" Merlin says defensively. "It's a very serious issue which is indicative of the university's lack of respect for the student body's needs. The shorts and sweating is a bonus."
Arthur laughs and pulls Merlin in to a quick kiss. "Got to run. Text me the times you need me to defend the uni's gym services with my blinding masculinity."
***
"I think I'm going to die," Arthur groans.
He's not exactly unfit, but a three hour gym session three days in a row would knacker anyone. Merlin seems alright, but then he's spent the last three days farting about on the crosstrainer's mildest setting, and none-too-subtly eyeing Arthur.
"Come back to mine for a shower, if you want," Merlin offers. "I'm only five minutes away."
"Is it a ridiculously hot shower?"
Merlin laughs. "Bathroom's the only reason we took the flat. It's great. Come here, let me grab your bag."
"I might just stay here and meld with the bench."
"Up," Merlin orders, wrapping his hands around Arthur's arm and tugging. "Up, up, up, come on."
Arthur groans theatrically and lets Merlin drag him to his feet. "You don't need to carry my bag," he says grudgingly. "I'm not some fainting maiden."
"But I am so very chivalrous," Merlin teases, hefting both bags onto his shoulder and pretending to stagger under their weight. Arthur laughs and slings his arm around Merlin's waist, unable to resist the temptation to press a kiss to his temple.
Merlin's flat really is only five minutes away, and the bathroom really is bloody marvellous. There's a huge bath for one thing, and even as Arthur turns up the temperature and the pressure in the shower cubicle, he can't help thinking that the bath would fit them both easily. Pushing the thoughts to one side, he grabs the slab of dark green soap, pleasantly surprised when he recognises the apple and mint scent as something he's come to associate with Merlin.
Arthur thinks he could probably spend hours in the shower if the hot water didn't give out, but he resists the temptation and gets out fairly quickly, knotting a towel around his waist. Merlin's waiting in the kitchen, and Arthur certainly isn't imagining the way Merlin's eyes rove over him for a long moment before he flushes and swallows audibly.
"Um. My room's on the left if you want to change," he says. "I'll just grab a quick shower and be back in five minutes, okay?"
"Yeah, cool."
When Merlin moves towards the bathroom, Arthur thinks fuck it, and pulls him in for a long kiss, taking his time to taste Merlin's mouth, suck gently on his lower lip.
"Okay, fuck," Merlin says when they part, pressing his forehead to Arthur's, his hands warm on Arthur's lower back. "Don't tempt me, okay?"
Arthur laughs and pushes Merlin playfully towards the bathroom. "Don't be long, yeah? I'll get lonesome."
Apparently Merlin's the only person in the world for whom 'five minute shower' actually means 'five minute shower'. So Arthur's kind of busted because he's changed into clean jogging bottoms and then thought fuck it and flopped down onto Merlin's bed. Merlin doesn't seem to mind, judging by the quietly strangled noise he makes when he walks into the room.
"Tired?" he asks.
Arthur turns his face into Merlin's pillow and shrugs. "Sore."
"You fancy a back rub?"
"Is that a euphemism?" Arthur asks, glancing over his shoulder. He can't help a twinge of regret for not looking earlier when he realises Merlin's already in jeans, scrubbing his hair with a towel.
He shoots Arthur an incredulous look and says, a bit too innocently, "No! Well. It might become one. Budge up," he says, and Arthur shuffles over far enough to let Merlin sit on the edge of the mattress. "Wanna know a secret?"
"Sure, okay," Arthur says lazily.
"I have magic hands," Merlin says, wiggling his fingers and grinning mischievously.
Arthur laughs and turns his face back into the pillow – because it's comfortable, by the way, not because it smells like whatever spicy shampoo Merlin uses. "Go on, then," he says, his voice muffled. "Wow me."
Merlin chuckles and runs a hand up the length of Arthur's spine before he stands up, the movement shifting the bed. Arthur hears the clatter of a drawer opening and closing, but barring the ache in his shoulders, he's so extraordinarily comfortable that he can't be bothered to look around. The bed shifts again and Arthur presses his face deeper into the pillows when soft pressure on the outside of his legs makes it clear that Merlin is kneeling astride his thighs.
He feels Merlin drag something slick and solid down his back, then across his shoulders, along his ribs, releasing a burst of fragrance that's somewhere between floral and musky. It's oddly pleasant, and that's before Merlin even sets his hands to Arthur's skin. Arthur sinks more comfortably into the bed with a sigh and Merlin chuckles.
"Nice?"
"Yeah. What is that?"
"Um." Merlin sounds amused. "Massage bar. It's called Business Time."
Arthur turns his head enough to shoot Merlin a teasing look. "For getting down to business, by any chance?"
"That is what the blurb suggests," Merlin admits.
"Hmm." Arthur shuts his eyes and lets himself relax. It's not a massage in the traditional sense of the word really, not after the first couple of minutes. It's more Merlin spreading his hands over every inch of skin he can reach, occasionally bending down to scatter kisses across the back of Arthur's neck. Of course, Arthur's not exactly going to complain about that.
A while later (Arthur really has no idea how long) Merlin shifts and says, "Turn over so I can do your front?"
"Not why I wanna turn over," Arthur admits.
Merlin laughs a bit shakily and says, "Oh, thank God."
Then they're both moving in a flurry of limbs, awkward but worth it when Merlin ends up in Arthur's lap. Arthur can't believe how hungry he is for it, verging on desperate. Merlin has no complaints, though, his mouth latching onto the angle of Arthur's jaw one moment, scattering kisses over his face the next. For his part, Arthur finds Merlin's bare skin delightful, the lean, sleek muscles of his arms, the perfect stretch of his spine, all so lovely they make his head swim.
He moves to kiss Merlin's neck instead, licking and biting down to his collarbones. When he gets there, Merlin throws his head back and groans, low and throaty. Weak spot, Arthur thinks triumphantly.
"I thought – " Merlin starts, breaking off to drag his short nails down the back of Arthur's neck, a delicious sting. "Thought you wanted to take it slow."
Arthur pulls back to look at him, incredulous. "What the fuck gave you that idea?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that you haven't strayed below the waist once?"
"What can I say? I'm a gent," Arthur says between kisses. "Was waiting for you."
Merlin laughs. "Alright, we're dumb," he says. Arthur's about to agree when Merlin's hand sneaks under the waistband of his jogging bottoms, long fingers quick and clever. It can't take Merlin more than a second to realise that his hands and his kisses and his warm weight wriggling in Arthur's lap have left Arthur so hard he feels like he could drill through walls. Merlin draws his hand back, licks a shine of precome off his thumb, and that's it. Arthur's fragile patience snaps and he uses his weight advantage to shift their positions, pressing Merlin into the bed and kissing him, hot and sloppy, his hands jerking at the buttons on Merlin's jeans. It's easy to get them both naked, and the slide of skin when Arthur presses their bodies together is intoxicating.
Merlin lifts Arthur's hand to his mouth, sucks two of his fingers in to the knuckle, and Arthur thinks that's pretty much an invitation. He slides his fingers out, deliberately slow, pulling Merlin's already full lower lip into a pout.
"You better get them good and wet," he says, amazed that his voice is actually almost steady.
Merlin sucks his fingers back in, three of them this time, his tongue wriggling between then, sucking hard. Arthur can imagine all too clearly the way it would look and feel if that was his prick instead. He strokes his free hand down the side of Merlin's face, feels the stretch of his lips. It's the work of a moment to slide down the length of Merlin's body, only distracted for a second by the smattering of dark hair and the jut of his hips. Merlin hooks a leg over Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur's gratified to realise it feels as good as he'd imagined.
Arthur might be eager, but he's not an idiot, so he ignores the way Merlin tilts his hips upward in favour of asking,
"Will that be enough? Do you have any – "
"Fine, s'fine," Merlin interrupts. "Come on..."
Arthur uses his shoulders to nudge Merlin's legs further apart and finds he has to take a moment just to breathe. Merlin is one delicious contrast after another. Dark hair against flushed cheeks, a sliver of bright blue around blown, black pupils, dark cock against pale white skin. Then Merlin knocks his knee against Arthur and says, with a soft affectionate smile,
"Hey."
And then the contrast is between the dirty, urgent heat of the situation, and Merlin's sweet, warm nature. Shaking himself, Arthur reaches down to stroke his wet fingers over the skin behind Merlin's balls – hot, tight – and then lower, to the tightly furled entrance hidden away there. Merlin jolts at the first touch, and then tangles his fingers into the sheets. He lets out a long, pleased sigh when Arthur pushes forward, just his fingertip sliding into the grasping heat of Merlin's body.
Arthur turns his head blindly and ends up kissing Merlin's thigh. His skin is hot and fresh, a tang of salt overlaying it, and it makes Arthur's teeth itch to bite down, suck a livid bruise onto Merlin's skin that won't fade for days. He's already imagining Merlin, later, alone, pressing his fingers to the mark and breathing shakily. Arthur restrains himself though, leaning down to lick a path up the underside of Merlin's cock, getting a shocked shout in reply. He has to use his free hand to hold Merlin down, and they both give a choked groan at the sensation.
Arthur mouths at the head of Merlin's cock as he carefully slides another finger in, taste bursting on his tongue. Merlin's heel presses hard into his back and he babbles something incomprehensible, his hand skittering across Arthur's shoulder, up to cup the back of his neck, a wordless plea for more. Arthur gives it to him and fuck, he really wishes he had a hand free, cause there's a very real possibility that Merlin like this is the sexiest thing in the fucking world. The tastes and the sounds and, Christ, every single fucking thing about it, make Arthur's head swim with lust. He knows he has to be careful though, spit won't be enough to ease the way for the kind of finger-fucking he wants to give Merlin.
Arthur takes Merlin further into his mouth in lieu of driving his fingers deeper, working his tongue against the underside of Merlin's cock and then he's shifting, pulling Arthur's hair, his hips lifting to meet Arthur's mouth, deliberately working Arthur's fingers deeper, and he's pretty sure some of the mangled words that Merlin's garbling are yes and more and please, naked desperation on his face when Arthur pulls away.
"I'm not going to fuck you this time," Arthur says boldly, replacing his mouth with his hand and Merlin groans, desperate and pleading. "No, no, not this time. I just wanna watch you fall apart, make you come all over yourself."
"Oh, fuck," Merlin breathes. "Fuh – uh – uck."
"Yeah," Arthur coaxes, licking a path up Merlin's hip, adding a wicked twist to the way he's stroking. "Come on, do it. Show me. Wanna see what you look like when you're totally out of your head."
Merlin grabs helplessly at Arthur's shoulder, short nails digging into his skin, and whimpers breathlessly, "Arthur – fuck – "
Arthur dips his head, overcome by the need to leave a mark on Merlin. He sets his teeth to the skin above Merlin's left hip, on the opposite side of his body from the little red dragon tattoo – bloody Welsh pride, honestly. He worries the skin gently for a moment before he bites down properly. Merlin's spine bows impressively, shaking Arthur off, and he's actually silent when he comes, a startling contrast to the moaning and crying of seconds ago. Arthur strokes him through it, watches the white stripes splatter across Merlin's abdomen.
Merlin heaves a few deep breaths and then, quicker than Arthur was expecting, hauls himself half upright, pawing at Arthur a bit clumsily until Arthur grabs his hand and directs it to where he wants it most. Merlin has long, slender artist's fingers that have featured heavily in Arthur's fantasies for the last few weeks, and they wrap easily around Arthur's length, slim and skilful.
He kisses Arthur's neck and murmurs, "That was fucking fantastic. Knew it would be just from looking at you. Can't wait for you to fuck me," he confesses, squeezing in a way that makes Arthur gasp, and then kissing his open mouth, lewd and filthy and so fucking good.
"Christ yeah," Merlin says, then breaks off to lift his hand to his mouth, licking his palm and reaching down again. "You thinking about it? Fucking me, filling me over and over. You want me on my knees for you, or – "
Arthur dives both hands into Merlin's hair, needing something to hang onto, and he breathes raggedly against Merlin's mouth. Merlin's languid and easy, humming when Arthur nips at his lip, letting Arthur tilt his head to one side, biting down the corded muscles in his neck.
"Mmm. You're a biter, aren't you?" Merlin asks, and Arthur makes a half-apologetic noise, reaching down to tangle his fingers with Merlin's as they stroke. "S'okay, I like that," Merlin goes on, arching his neck, giving Arthur better access. Arthur gives in to the temptation happily, mapping a path up the length of Merlin's throat, along the sharp angle of his jaw.
Merlin presses closer and tightens his hand, starts imitating the wicked twisting motion Arthur had used on him earlier. Arthur's helpless, mouthing wetly against Merlin's neck, clutching helplessly at his back.
"Fuck, yeah, come on, I wanna – "
Arthur never gets to hear what Merlin wants to do, because as he's speaking, Merlin reaches down and cups his bollocks, and just that one touch is enough to set Arthur off. He'd be embarrassed at getting off so quickly from a simple handjob, but he genuinely cannot bring himself to care. Merlin kisses him afterwards, wipes his sticky hand on Arthur's chest and pointedly ignores his protest.
Merlin flops down onto the mattress , his head hanging off the end of the bed, a sated grin on what Arthur can see of his face. Arthur just laughs and pats Merlin's stomach companionably. He already feels comfortable enough in Merlin's space to get up and pad off to the bathroom to clean up quickly, returning with a damp cloth. Merlin's still sprawled in the same position and he groans when Arthur chucks the cloth onto his stomach.
"Oh, God. You're not one of these freaks that's actually functional after sex, are you?"
"Semi-functional," Arthur admits.
"Don't be such a weirdo," Merlin says, sounding sleepy.
Arthur tuts. "I see through you, you know?"
"Hmm?"
In answer, Arthur kneels over Merlin, cleaning him gently but efficiently, muttering, told you so when Merlin makes a happy noise in response to the attention. Arthur chucks the cloth onto a free corner of Merlin's desk and manhandles him up into a kiss.
"Stop functioning," Merlin protests. "Come on, let's just have a nap, yeah?"
The bed's small, narrow, and it's awkward until Arthur – giving Merlin very little choice in the matter – rearranges them, Merlin slotted neatly between his legs, his head pillowed on Arthur's chest.
"Wouldn't have had you pegged for a cuddler," Merlin says a little bit later, but he sounds pleasantly surprised.
"No?"
Merlin yawns against his chest and his fingers fidget over Arthur's hip. "Y'seem too straight for that."
"Merlin. I work in the Body Shop, carry lip balm at all times, and just in case you've lost the brainpower to remember, give a rather spectacular blowjob. I don't think I'm too straight for anything."
He gets only a sleepy chuckle in return and runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Merlin's neck, where it curls towards his nape.
They wake up just long enough to order a takeaway, watch the news, and fall into bed again. Because they're tired after Merlin's bloody gym-in, not because Arthur secretly likes the way Merlin's single bed forces them to cling to each other. Merlin snores, which is bloody annoying usually, but Merlin does it like a cat or something, all sighs and surprised little snuffles, and Arthur's last thought is that it's actually pretty hilarious.
>> part b