Work Text:
Art by the amazing Cosmo Cat (magicalmysticalmanservant). This is my entry for the first round of the Merlin Discord's Tiny Reverse Bang 2021.
Please be kind, I haven't written a lot of stuff.
5 times Arthur tried to ask Merlin to the dance + 1 time Merlin asked Arthur
1
Merlin blinked. And again. Yet somehow, the note was still there. It really existed. On opening his locker, it had fluttered down and landed on his nose, giving him a close-up view of the red, loopy cursive scrawled across it. Pulling it away from his face to look at it properly, his eyes had widened as he read what it contained.
Roses are red, this is so twee, but will you go to the dance with me?
One line. It had been playing on repeat in his head since he had first read it. He was startled out of his confused reverie by strong arms pulling him into a hug.
“Hey! Lunch?”
His best friend, Arthur Pendragon, was his exact opposite in every way. He was the sun to Merlin’s moon, the stereotypical jock to Merlin’s stereotypical nerd, the loud extrovert to Merlin’s introvert, and, most importantly, he was straight, whereas Merlin was hopelessly in love with him, and had been for two years. Their friendship made little sense to anyone else, as they had started off hating each other, and still bickered like a married couple even now, but somewhere along the line, they had realised that their arguments had become softer, laced with a gentle fondness. And eventually they had become inseparable, to the point where they even shared a group of friends.
Shaking himself out of his web of tangled thoughts, Merlin looked up to see Arthur’s kind eyes staring at him, full of concern, as he leaned across him with one arm on the lockers. He handed him a small bunch of daisies, and Merlin smiled at him gratefully, tucking them into his art book to be pressed later that day.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, shutting his locker, “sorry, I just got this in my locker, and I have no idea who it’s from.”
Arthur frowned. “Is there no name?”
Merlin shook his head. “Sadly not.”
Arthur had a strange look on his face as he stared at the note. Waving a hand in front of his face, Merlin reminded him of his earlier question.
“Yes. Lunch. Come on – everyone will be waiting. You know they never start eating without their precious captain.”
“Shut up, Merlin.”
They grinned at each other, and then, almost as though by wordless agreement, raced each other to the cafeteria. Arthur let him win. He always did.
2
Gwaine was possibly the most loutish of the Knights, but even he was respectful and kind, and he got on very well with Merlin. Merlin was startled, therefore, when he came into the changing rooms after gym class to find Gwaine holding his shirt.
“What are you doing in here?” he sighed. “And give that back.”
“No can do, love. Pendragon has a present for you. You can have your shirt back at the end of the day.”
“Gwaine! What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I have nothing else to wear!”
Gwaine offered him a shit-eating grin and unfolded himself from where he was leaning lazily against the gym lockers.
“Courtesy of the Princess,” he announced, throwing a ball of soft fabric at Merlin, who stumbled over himself catching it. Unfolding the parcel of cloth, he realised it was a letterman jacket, just like the ones all the Knights wore, with the word EMRYS written across it in bold yellow script, the number 1 beneath it. There was a similarly bold M on the front pocket, cheerfully taunting Merlin with its existence.
“I- I’m not an athlete, Gwaine. What is this? I love you all, but I can’t join the team. And this is Arthur’s number. Why is it on here?”
“Merlin,” Gwaine sighed, “I thought you’d be a bit less of an idiot than Pendragon. But you’re really not.”
Then, with a patronising pat on the shoulder, Gwaine left, Merlin’s shirt stuffed messily into his backpack.
Glaring at the empty space where Gwaine once stood, Merlin buttoned up the letterman and stormed off to English class.
“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, when he threw his bag down on the desk next to him. He glanced at the jersey, and his eyes seemed to dance around the room, avoiding Merlin’s.
“What’s wrong? You let Gwaine accost me! And now he has my shirt and won’t give it back and I have to wear this jersey all day. I’m not a jock, Arthur. And this is your number, not mine. Everyone’s going to laugh at me.”
“Let them try,” Arthur hissed, suddenly ferocious, his eyes flashing.
“Calm down, you idiot. Nobody has said anything. I just- why?”
“I just wanted you to have it,” Arthur mumbled, avoiding Merlin’s eyes again. Merlin noticed there was that frown on his face again, the same frown he had when reading the note in Merlin’s locker. He looked- but no, it couldn’t be- he looked disappointed.
“Arthur?” Merlin nudged his foot gently with his own and smiled gently when Arthur looked up at him. “I love it. Thank you.”
Arthur beamed. Merlin kept the letterman.
3
Merlin took off the letterman jacket later that night, and hung it up with great care, as though it were something precious. Which it was. It was a gift from Arthur. As he pulled on sweatpants and a threadbare shirt he had taken to using as a pyjama top, his mother, Hunith, called for him.
“Merlin! There’s a parcel for you!”
He hurried downstairs, tripping over himself, as he usually did in his attempts to be a functional human. His mother was holding a long and bulky rectangular parcel, and she was smiling mysteriously down at the box. Merlin raised a suspicious eyebrow.
“What is it?” he queried, warily taking the box from her hands.
“Well it appears to be addressed to ‘Merlin Emrys, the love of my life’. Have you got anything to tell me?”
“What?” he spluttered. “No! Of course not! No. I- what?”
Confused and tired with how frustrating this week had been, he tore open the packaging and had a moment to stare at the decadent bouquet of roses encased within before he started violently sneezing. Which was to be expected, really, because he was deathly allergic. Hunith’s smile disappeared almost instantaneously and she sprang into action, taking the roses outside to the trash.
“Is someone trying to kill you? Have you annoyed someone? Are you being bullied?” she fired rapid questions at him, concern in her warm and motherly eyes.
“Not that I’m aware of,” he sighed, and sneezed again. “I’m fairly sure I’d remember annoying someone that badly.”
Hunith’s fussing was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was a knock Merlin recognised immediately. Smacking his forehead, he sighed again.
“I’d completely forgotten. Arthur’s here. It’s movie night. It’s Friday. Oh god. Mum is there enough-”
“Yes, yes, I’ve cooked for three. I’ve made lasagne. Stop worrying. Go let in him! Poor boy.”
He hopped up off the couch and threw the door open just in time to see Arthur, hand hovering in mid-air, clearly about to knock again. Blushing, he lowered his hand and cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Uh, hi? It’s Friday? You left after school and didn’t um- you weren’t there? Is this okay?”
He looked confused, and a little bit hurt, but mostly just very worried.
“Yes!” Merlin assured him quickly. “I’m so sorry! I just forgot it was Friday! It’s been such a weird week - all these things keep happening to me. And now mum’s fairly sure someone’s trying to kill me-”
“What?” Arthur broke in, sounding alarmed.
“Uh yeah. Someone sent me roses. I’m deathly allergic. I didn’t realise it was public knowledge, but clearly someone was trying to play a practical joke or something. I don’t think they were trying to kill me. She’s so dramatic.”
“Oh god,” Arthur rasped. “Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry!”
Arthur looked sceptical. He was suspiciously pale, Merlin noted.
“Are you okay? You look ill! Let’s get you a nice cup of tea. Mum’s made lasagne.”
He pulled him inside, dragging him through to the kitchen where the two were distracted entirely by the warmth of Hunith’s food and presence.
Later, however, when Arthur fell asleep on his shoulder halfway through binging Bridgerton, which they had been watching entirely for Merlin’s sake, he couldn’t help but wonder about Arthur’s strange behaviour this week. Maybe he really was ill.
4
Monday was the start of a new week, and Merlin was determined to shake off the confusion of last week and dedicate himself wholeheartedly to college preparations. He had earned a very prestigious scholarship to be able to study in Scotland and wanted desperately to escape the rising tide of homophobia and bigotry in his small American town. The only negative to this plan was that Arthur would be thousands of miles away, which wasn’t something he was prepared to think about yet.
“Morning!”
Guinevere Smith and Lancelot du Lac, two of his best friends, rolled up outside his house in Lance’s truck. This was not a common occurrence. Lance often picked up Gwen on his way to school, but both of them lived on the other side of town.
“Hey uh- what’s going on? Did we organise something?” Merlin questioned, panicking for a moment that he had forgotten something important in amongst the chaos of last week.
“Nope,” Gwen reassured him, popping the ‘p’ with a broad grin on her face. “We’ve received instructions to pick you up this morning. Arthur’s busy and didn’t want you to have to take the bus after the stunts Valiant and Cedric pulled last year.”
Shuddering at the memory of the two former Knights holding his head out the window, laughing as they dangled him in the way of the oncoming traffic, and at the consequent memory of watching Arthur breaking his hand fighting them both at the same time the next day, Merlin scowled. He was grateful for the kindness, but he didn’t want to inconvenience Lance by making him drive to the other side of town just to drive all the way back again.
“Merlin,” Lance said softly, already anticipating his reaction, “it’s fine. The gas is no concern. I want you to be safe, we all do. Especially Arthur.”
Merlin had no idea what that meant, so he just shook his head and climbed into the back, diving into a fun conversation with the two lovebirds. He found his smile carrying him all the way to class. On entering the room, however, it fell from his face.
“Hey Merls, looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” Will offered, wiggling his eyebrows and pointing needlessly at the scattering of fake rose petals on his desk, surrounding two shiny glossed tickets for the fall dance. A night under the stars it read. How patronisingly cheerful. He blinked.
“There’s a note,” Will pointed out.
Merlin shook himself out of his stupor and grabbed the note.
You’re my number one, but will you join me in a dance for two?
So that was a no on the confusion-free week then. Grand. He crumpled the note angrily, and stashed it in his bag for further inspection, along with the tickets, before gathering the fake rose petals and throwing them in the trash.
“You okay?”
He felt the warmth coming from the seat next to him and turned to see Arthur setting down his things.
“Yes, just another ridiculous note. Still no name. They did get fake rose petals though, so at least they’re not trying to kill me.”
“Did they not leave any clues?” Arthur asked, a hint of annoyance laced in his voice, as he opened his textbook to the appropriate page.
“Some nonsense about numbers? But everyone knows I’m terrible at math, so I don’t understand what they’re talking about.”
Arthur said nothing for the rest of the lesson. Merlin didn’t notice. He was too busy fuming over the note.
5
Every Tuesday in the history of their long and complicated friendship, Merlin and Arthur had gone for ice cream after school. They tried various different gelaterias and diners, and always got different flavours and shared them. This Tuesday was no different. Arthur had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since the ticket fiasco in class yesterday, and Merlin was determined to use their ice cream bonding session to find out what was wrong.
“So, where to today?” he asked, buckling himself in.
“It’s a surprise,” Arthur mumbled, smiling faintly at him as he turned on the ignition.
Merlin grabbed the aux cord and set their ‘driving adventures’ playlist going. They had a long tradition of this too, singing along loudly to ABBA until all the stress of senior year melted away for the short time it took them to locate some ice cream. Only Arthur wasn’t singing. Merlin stopped, halfway through belting out Knowing Me, Knowing You, and saw that he had once more adopted that sickly paleness from the other day.
“Arthur?” he prodded questioningly. “Are you okay? We don’t have to get ice cream if you’re feeling sick. You can go home.”
“Merlin, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I’m fine!” Arthur snapped, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were also turning rather pale.
Merlin stopped asking. Stung, he turned to stare out of the window, dreaming about the possibilities of Scotland and all that he was going to do next year.
“I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered, staring resolutely ahead.
“It’s fine.”
The rest of the journey was spent in fraught silence, and Merlin was about to ask him to turn the car around and take him home when he pulled into a parking lot outside a shiny gelateria they hadn’t been to before.
“Here!” Arthur announced, quickly unbuckling himself and all but running from the silence of the car.
“Well, this is lovely,” Merlin mumbled to himself, throwing his backpack over one shoulder and slamming the car door shut.
Once they were seated, a kind and cheery waitress came over, informing them that her name was Elena, she was the boss and that she would be serving them today.
Arthur made polite conversation with her, enquiring about the Lover’s Special. Merlin glanced up, very confused, and saw the item in question splattered across the electric screens above the counter. It seemed luxurious, expensive, frilly, and most of all, romantic.
“But we’re not lovers, Arthur,” he hissed when Elena had disappeared again.
“I think I know that, Merlin. I just thought it might be nice-”
“To scam a local small business? I’m all for pretending to be in love with you when we’re in a chain restaurant, Arthur, but Elena seems really kind.”
“Pretend- of course.” Arthur was staring determinedly at the table, at the floor, at the wall, anywhere that wasn’t Merlin. He was also extremely red.
“What? What is it?” Merlin demanded. “What’s been going on with you lately?”
“Nothing! It doesn’t matter now. It’s fine.”
“Will you stop saying that?”
“Just forget about it,” Arthur pleaded, looking at him with sad eyes. “It’s nothing, okay?”
“Fine. If this is how you want our friendship to be, it’s a good job I’m moving to Scotland.”
He regretted it almost as soon as he said it. Arthur flinched back as though physically hit and blinked furiously, turning his head away. Merlin realised a moment later that he was blinking back tears and felt the wave of guilt heavy in his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he tried, “I didn’t mean that.”
“No,” Arthur sighed, pulling himself up straight in his chair, “it was entirely fair and justified. I’ll get the bill and we can leave. I’m sorry this was such a disaster.”
This time, the silence was deafening as they journeyed back to Merlin’s house. Merlin didn’t dare breathe, because the sound of his own breath was too loud in his ears, and he couldn’t focus on anything but blinking the tears back until he was in the safety of his own bedroom. He nearly lost control a few times, and a stray tear escaped as they pulled up outside his house, but he brushed it away angrily.
“Merlin.” A soft hand wrapped around his arm as he turned to get out, staying him in place. “I’m sorry for today. I didn’t mean to ruin everything. I kept trying to ask- that doesn’t matter now, but I just- agh, I don’t know how to say this.”
Merlin looked up questioningly, meeting Arthur’s eyes. They seemed a little wild and frenzied. He untangled Arthur’s hand from his arm, threading his fingers through it instead.
“Hey, what is it? Please. You can tell me anything.”
Arthur seemed to deflate then, and he looked down at the steering wheel as he mumbled something unintelligible.
“I’m sorry what?”
“I was trying to ask you to the dance!” he huffed, once more turning completely red. “I’ve been trying all week. I wrote the note- uh, both notes. I got the tickets. The letterman thing is a romantic trope I heard about. You’re meant to give your significant other your jacket, except I kind of need mine, because you know- captain, so I had one made instead. I had absolutely no idea you were allergic to roses and I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t want to hurt you, I’d never want to hurt you-”
“Arthur,” Merlin breathed. “I thought you were straight?”
“Uh, no, turns out I’m bi. Which I found out when I fell in love with my best friend. But it’s okay but you made it clear at Elena’s that you don’t love me, and that is absolutely okay, you’re well within your rights to not love me, you don’t owe me anything.”
Merlin was dumbfounded and shocked into silence. He couldn’t make himself speak, even if thoughts were racing through his head. Arthur’s eyes glassed over, and he withdrew into the protective shell Merlin hated.
“Could you please go? I’m really tired. I need to sleep.”
Merlin nodded, wondering how his legs were managing to carry him to the door. He stumbled into his house as Arthur drove off. It was only once he saw his mother, knitting in her chair with a cup of Earl Grey cooling steadily on the table, that he started openly sobbing. Hunith threw down her knitting and caught him as he slumped forward into her arms.
Arthur loved him too. God. He had to fix this.
+1
“Is this actually safe to ride?” Merlin asked suspiciously, eyeing the travelling death-trap Will called a car.
“Don’t be a dick,” Will drawled, “just be grateful I agreed to pick you up so early. Still don’t understand why I’m here at arse o’clock in the morning.”
“So that I can win back the love of my life, we’ve been over this.”
“Pendragon doesn’t deserve you, but we’ve been over that too.”
“Shut up. How’s Freya doing?”
Will’s whole face lit up, as he broke into a tirade of admiration for his girlfriend, and Merlin let the soothingly familiar conversation wash over him all the way to school, adamantly ignoring the twisted ball of nerves currently residing in his stomach.
They made their way into homeroom, and Merlin started by gently laying out the red tulip petals, which he considered to be an excellent alternative to a long and painful death during his grand dramatic gesture. He set down one of the tickets, and the small tub of ice cream he had made Will stop for at Elena’s. Carefully, he checked over the note one last time.
I’m oblivious, and you are too, but sadly I am in love with you. Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you.
He folded it back up and set it down next to the lone ticket. Will snorted gracelessly, sipping at his coffee and trying to keep his eyes open.
“I hope he’s worth it, Merls.”
“He is,” Merlin assured him, and took his seat.
Ten minutes later, everyone was staring as they flooded into the room. Arthur was last to arrive, of course, because Merlin’s life could never be easy. He stopped dead when he saw his desk, and pained eyes flicked toward Merlin, a look of confusion flying across his face. He picked up the note with trembling hands, and read it over twice, before setting it down again and gripping the back of the chair tightly. Slowly, the sadness on his face began to ease, and in its place a small but genuine smile began to blossom.
“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, and pulled Merlin into a frantic kiss.
“Excuse me,” Merlin breathed between kisses, “I’m not the one who nearly murdered someone with flowers.”
“Don’t,” Arthur groaned, although it slowly turned into a laugh, “I’m so sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” he reassured, “Mum put them in the bin. I’m alive. It’s okay.”
“Does this mean,” Arthur swallowed, “um- do you want to maybe-”
“Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin smirked, “are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”
Arthur blushed furiously and began to pull away. Merlin pulled him back with a careful hand on his arm. He leaned down slightly, noting with smug satisfaction that he was still an inch taller than Arthur, and brushed his lips against Arthur’s ear until he felt him shiver against him.
“I’d love to,” he whispered.
Arthur beamed, and drew him into a tender hug, where they stayed for several moments until Arthur pulled back, a sheepish expression on his face.
“There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“Oh god. What now?” Merlin huffed, but he was quickly silenced with a glare.
“I, uh, I accepted Edinburgh Law School.”
“What?” Merlin didn’t dare believe his own ears. He hadn’t even been aware Arthur was applying to Edinburgh.
“Yeah, I- it’s not just for you. Don’t worry. I’m not going to become a crazy stalker if you decide you don’t want me anymore.” At this, Merlin’s hand tightened on Arthur’s shoulder. “I need to get away from my father, and Morgana would only be an hour or so away in St Andrews. I qualify for FAFSA funding, and I can take out loans to support me during my Law degree. I want independence and freedom and a life. I want a life with you.”
Merlin gasped. “This is wonderful. Can we- I mean, would you like to live together?”
“Yes,” Arthur breathed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I would love that. But you owe me a dance first.”
Merlin kissed him again.