Merlin thinks that, so far, everything is going alright.
He’s managed to avoid human interaction after Gwen abandoned him in lieu of having a dance with Lance, and he’s calmly having a drink on the sofa, assessing through half-lidded eyes his surroundings. He wants to go home, get into bed and sleep it off, but he drove Gwen to the party and he’s not going to leave her alone, nevermind that Lance is probably the nicest guy of the entire school and would without a doubt take care of her, but Merlin promised Gwen’s mum they would be back at a proper hour.
Merlin’s almost falling asleep when someone startles him, plopping down on the sofa beside him, throwing an arm over the headrest and across his back. Merlin turns, and sees Arthur.
“Enjoying the party?” he asks, pushing his fringe off his forehead only to have it falling back over his eyes again, all blond and shiny.
Merlin tries to be nice, even when he’s actually pretty bored and doesn’t care in the slightest about parties. He’s only here because it’s Gwaine’s birthday and Gwen wanted to come. “Yeah, it’s okay, I suppose.” He says with a one shoulder shrug.
“You suppose?” His arrogance is already showing with the wriggle of an eyebrow as he asks, “Only okay?” And then, all of a sudden, places his hand over Merlin’s thigh and rubs up and down once, giving a soft squeeze. “We could change that.”
Merlin pauses, holding his breath and feeling his eyes glue down to the place where Arthur’s hand is burning against his jeans. He doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. It’s not as if Arthur’s an stranger, they are classmates and, despite the continuous insults, they get along just fine, but seeing Arthur taking such liberty as to touch him in such an intimate place is beyond Merlin’s understanding. Maybe it’s because when Arthur’s drunk he gets all touchy-feely, but still, it’s weird as fuck.
“What?” he says, squirming when Arthur’s hand moves upwards, fingers gracing his inner thigh where he’s really sensitive. He doesn’t really leave Arthur time to respond before he’s jumping up and off the sofa, muttering excuses about having had too much to drink and needing to use the bathroom.
Once he’s safely locked inside he takes a piss, washes his hands, and frowns at his reflection in the mirror, at his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. Then he exits the room and comes face to face with Arthur again.
“Are you hiding from me, Merlin?” Arthur smirks playfully at him, and he looks amused and a little bit sexy as he leans against the wall.
“No,” Merlin replies. “I just don’t know what you’re up to, but whatever it is, I’m not interested,” he attempts to push past him, but Arthur annoyingly steps in his way.
“Oh, really? Do I have to make myself clearer?” Arthur seems far too amused, and Merlin’s starting to feel uncomfortable. “I invited you to the party, I keep following you around and flirting. . . You’re too much of an idiot to realise, of course, but I’ve been trying to snog you for ages.”
Merlin gapes a little. “You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Arthur’s smirk widens. “And you’re an idiot but I still want to snog you, so shut up and let me.”
So Arthur grabs Merlin’s shirt and tugs hard until they are in each other’s personal space and Arthur can do as he wishes and crush their lips together. Merlin doesn’t resist because Arthur makes a small and appreciative sound against his lips and Merlin decides that it feels far too nice to make it stop. Arthur’s lips are dry and warm and he kisses Merlin as if he’s really wanted it, with small pecks at first as though he can’t kiss him enough times, and then more soundly, using his tongue and teeth without finesse.
He cups Merlin’s head in his palm, and places his other hand over the curve of Merlin’s arse, and Merlin thinks he should complain and say he’s going too far too soon, but he can’t find words; he can only walk Arthur backwards against the wall and melt when Arthur holds him closer so their bodies touch. He lets out a muffled gasp when their hips collide and he realises he’s hard and so is Arthur, and in that moment he thinks how he had never imagined something like this happening, but he likes it.
Arthur breaks the kiss to take a deep breath and presses his forehead against Merlin’s. “You’re not too bad at this.”
Merlin snorts, but he’s smiling. “That’s it, that’s all you wanted to do?”
Arthur pulls back and raises an eyebrow.
“I’ll be going back down then,” Merlin says as he gestures with his hand, drawing away, and biting his lip to avoid laughing at the look of outrage on Arthur’s face.
“Merlin,” Arthur says in that tone, and then grabs his wrist and stops him. He seems to notice the amused lift to Merlin’s lips, because he smirks softly himself. “Where do you think you’re going?” He says, driving Merlin backwards until he’s steering him inside a room.
“Where do you think you’re taking me to?” Merlin tells him. “I’m not that easy, Arthur.”
Arthur seems suddenly wrong-footed. “I-”
Merlin tries to keep a straight face. “I’ll see you on Monday, Arthur,” he says, managing to slip away and leaving a nonplussed Arthur behind.
On Monday Arthur only glances at him but doesn’t say a thing. Merlin thinks he’s embarrassed and feeling rejected, so Merlin quickly decides to solve things. He follows Arthur to the loos, and only because they are empty, Merlin allows himself to shove Arthur inside one stall and pin him against the wall.
“Hi,” he smiles. He gives in this time, because it feels right. He’s not drunk and his mind is clear. And because maybe the other night he realised something.
“Hey,” Arthur replies, with a confused smile, but his eyes sparkle.
“We have ten minutes, better make the most of them,” Merlin says and then kisses Arthur.
This time, when Arthur places his hand over Merlin’s bum, Merlin doesn’t complain. This time, he urges him to go on, and Arthur, with a brilliant smile, does.