Work Text:
Merlin settled at his table, drink in hand. He placed his book on the table as he took his backpack off and shoved it under the table. He sighed as he took a few sips from his steaming mug. Delicious and warm.
He looked around for a bit, absorbing the ambiance. He reached for his book, intending to read at least a couple of chapters when a stranger plopped themselves on the chair opposite his though there was no scarcity of free tables.
“I’m Arthur,” said the man, gesturing vaguely at Merlin’s book. He was dressed in casual clothes, likely a fellow student seeing as the cafe was in the University of Camelot.
“Hello,” Merlin said hesitantly. Maybe the man, Arthur, needed some help.
“Right,” Arthur huffed. “Let’s do this, then.” He took a sip from his drink. “I’m a prince, I have one sibling, I like football.”
Merlin raised an eyebrow. If Arthur was trying to chat him up with that rude tone, Merlin was deeply unimpressed. Then again, what did he expect from someone who was a candidate for being the crowned prince?
“A Prince? And you know how to order your own drink?” Merlin hadn’t intended to be snarky, really. He just had no idea who the hell Arthur though he was.
Princes were notoriously arrogant in Merlin’s opinion. He’d never had the misfortune of meeting any, but they always behaved like bullies in the university. Merlin had stepped once or twice, but mostly tried to steer clear of them.
Arthur snorted derisively. “Giving orders is something I excel at.” He smiled insincerely, teeth flashing. “What’s your name.”
Merlin glared at him unflinchingly. “Merlin.”
“Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”
“No.”
“Would you like me to help you?”
Merlin’s annoyance flared. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned.
“Why, what are you going to do to me?” Arthur leaned back with a smirk.
“You have no idea,” Merlin said, trying his best to clamp down his magic. He did not fancy getting in trouble with Professor Gaius because some prat taunted him into using magic. Especially since said prat was a fellow student and it was technically against the rules.
“Be my guest.” Arthur spread his arms wide in welcome.
Merlin grit his teeth.
“Come one.” Arthur tilted his head to the side.
Don’t, don’t, don’t Merlin chanted to himself.
“Come on,” Arthur edged. “Come on.”
Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as he levitated his book off the table to smack Arthur’s face. Rather, he tried to as Arthur ducked at the last possible second. Merlin was not impressed by those reflexes.
“I can do your drink next if you’d like,” he said, crossing his arms.
Arthur eyed him. “You’re a sorcerer.”
Merlin inclined his head in a mock bow as his eyes turned gold again. Arthur flinched, but Merlin had merely summoned his book back from where it had fallen.
“You didn’t incant any spells,” Arthur pointed out. “My sister is a witch. She always uses a spell.”
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t need to.” He relaxed now that he knew Arthur wasn’t a complete bigot against magic users like most of the student body. He was still an ass though.
“What else can you do?” Arthur asked without a trace of condescension.
Merlin took a sip of his drink and looked into Arthur’s curious, blue eyes. “A whole lot of things. Would you like to see some?” Merlin’s eyes shined with hope. He had been playing around with a spell he’d found recently.
Arthur eyed him, observing him but not with suspicion or distrust. “Go ahead.”
Merlin held his palms towards his mug and whispered a spell. Droplets of his drink rose, forming the image of a horse running, wind whipping through it’s mane. The horse ran a lap around their table, coming to a stop by Merlin’s mug. It raised itself on its hinds, shook it’s glistening head, and jumped into the mug, returning to normal liquid.
Arthur looked awestruck. He looked away once he realised he was staring. “That was,” he cleared his throat, “not bad.”
Merlin bit back a smile. Arthur had watched with such pure child-like wonder. Merlin loved it when people appreciated his magic the way it was meant to be. It warmed his heart.
“That something you learnt in class?” Arthur asked.
Merlin shook his head. “We’re doing fire spells. Trust me, you don’t want to see mine,” he said self depreciatively. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it. It was that he could do it too well. He didn’t want to risk another request. He didn’t want the attention.
He was allegedly the most powerful sorcerer to ever grace the university. Possible most powerful in existence, but Merlin didn’t like to think about that.
Gaius had advised him to keep a low profile. Merlin had no qualms. Sorcerers were already viewed with envy and prejudice. If they found out his was technically a warlock, it would be much worse. It was popular misconception that the stronger the magic was the more likely it was corrupt.
Cornelius Sigan had gone rogue and almost destroyed the university a few years ago. Merlin had managed to defeat him from behind the scenes and saved the day. In return he got scrutiny and backlash upon the entire magical community and no a word of thanks.
There had been protest to shut down the magical department even though Sigan had been neither faculty nor student. It died down eventually, but the damage was done. Merlin was disappointed that no one seemed to put together the fact that whoever defeated Sigan had likely also had magic.
“So,” Arthur said, thankfully steering the topic away from magic. “What else do you like to do?”
“Read,” Merlin replied pointedly. His book was still waiting for him.
Arthur huffed. “Nerd.”
Merlin would have taken offence but Arthur had sounded playful rather than mean. “What about you, Mr football?”
“We have games every Saturday. Low stakes but good fun.”
Merlin eyes widened sceptically. “Low stakes? I figured you’d be...the competitive sort, always has to be the best.”
Arthur smiled slyly. “Never said I wasn’t the best.”
Merlin rolled his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Arthur threw him an affronted look. “I’ll have you know I’m the best knight as well.”
“You’re a knight?” Merlin asked, surprised.
Princes didn’t need to undergo knight training anymore. It was considered traditional as they were no longer expect to lead in wars. They could sit in comfortable armchairs and issue orders from afar, assured in their safety as the last man to go down should wars ever reach them.
If Arthur was being truthful, not only had the prince trained but had also being officially knighted. Merlin had observed the occasional sparring match. While he could easily take them on with his magic he knew it a weaker sorcerer may still be defeated by skilled knights.
“I know it’s not the done thing anymore.” Arthur scratched the back of his neck and looked away. “I think princes should be able to protect their people.”
Merlin smiled. Arthur somehow managed to look embarrassed and resolute at the same time. Merlin decided to break the tension. “It still doesn’t mean you’re the best footballer.”
“I’ll have you know I’m the full package. I also happen to be the captain.”
Merlin blatantly eyed him over. “Hmm...yeah I’m sure,” he said insincerely.
Arthur frowned heavily.
Merlin hid a smile behind is mug. It was so much fun to rile him up.
“The game is at 4 this Saturday,” Arthur said.
Merlin cut in before Arthur said something stupidly competitive. “What makes you think I’d want to be there?”
“Well, if you’re afraid of being proven wrong...” Arthur trailed off smugly, “I understand.”
Merlin was not competitive, he wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to let this prat get away with thinking Merlin had forfeit. “You understand shit. I just don’t see how it would be worth my time.”
Arthur gave him a kicked puppy face. “Why not?”
Oh no, not a puppy face. Merlin was so bad at resisting puppy faces. Arthur’s was especially effective since his stupid, handsome face had spent most of its time being arrogant, smug, or scowling.
He knew Arthur was playing him. He knew it.
“I’ll have to check my schedule,” Merlin gave in grudgingly.
Arthur’s face immediately transformed to satisfaction. “Be prepared to be proved wrong,” he said cockily.
“I haven’t agreed yet,” Merlin pointed out, mildly annoyed again.
Arthur waved him off. “You know, I have to admit, I thought this meeting would go horribly.”
“What makes you think it’s not?” Merlin asked, just to be contrary.
“Don’t be stupid, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Of course it isn’t. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Merlin threw him an exasperated look. “Maybe I should leave then.”
Merlin didn’t want to admit it, but Arthur had caught his attention. He was definitely still a prat, though, who seemed to think insults were akin to endearments.
Arthur threw him a dirty look as if Merlin was the annoying one. “As I was saying, I expected to do only the bare minimum, to please Leon.”
“Anytime now feel free to give me some context.”
“You know, Leon,” Arthur gestured, “who...” he trailed off as he checked a notification that flashed on his phone. He frowned as he read it.
Merlin sighed quietly as he awkwardly fidgeted with his mug, trying not to look as if he was peeking.
“Merlin,” Arthur spoke slowly, “why are you texting me for a reschedule?”
Merlin made a face. “How would I text you? I don’t even have your number.”
“Then who is this?” Arthur shoved his phone in Merlin’s face.
It was unsaved number Merlin did not recognise. “It’s certainly not mine. Shouldn’t you know?”
Arthur stared at him suspiciously. He send a reply and waited. His phone chimed almost immediately with a response. Arthur’s eyes widened. “It isn’t you!”
“Obviously.” Merlin was beginning to think he was missing something.
Arthur gaped at him for a bit, furiously typed a reply, and decisively turned this phone off.
“Merlin,” Arthur said, enunciating his name oddly.
“Yes?” Merlin asked warily.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I didn’t even do anything,” he cried indignantly.
“So you pretend to be other’s blind date often, do you?”
“Back the hell up, what do you mean blind date?” He gestured sharply, almost knocking his mug. “And I’m not pretending anything.”
Arthur dropped his head in his hands and groaned. Merlin waited for a bit but Arthur refused to say anything.
“Are you planning on explaining?” Merlin asked impatiently. “This is the most absurd thing I’ve ever been accused of and I’ve been accused of crushing on Professor Nimueh.”
Arthur lifted his head. “Who’s Nimueh?”
Merlin glared at him.
Arthur relented, sitting up properly. “There may have been a misunderstanding. I though you were someone else.”
“Oh.” Despite everything, Merlin’s heart sunk a little at that. A tiny part of him had thought Arthur had been trying to chat him up, terrible as it was.
“Who were you expecting?” he asked before his brain re-engaged to proper thoughts. “Right, blind date, you said.”
Merlin felt like an idiot. He’d known Arthur for less than an hour, yet the though of him on a date with someone else bothered him. He wanted to bury his head ostrich style.
This was not happening to him. Arthur was a prized prat of a prince. Merlin did not like him.
Arthur tilted his head curiously. “What did you think this was?”
Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know. Some prat bothering innocent people going about their day?” he tried to joke.
Arthur scrunched his face. “Who does that?”
“Someone of your disposition could. Stranger things have happened.”
“Right.” Arthur pursed his lips. “Are you straight?”
Merlin was taken aback by the bluntness. What in the audacity? Oh right, Arthur was a prince. “Wouldn't you like to know?”
Arthur nodded to himself. “So not straight.” He continued, ignoring Merlin’s resulting spluttering, “Are you dating anyone?”
“You can’t just ask people that!” Merlin shifted uncomfortably.
Arthur sighed. “Work with me, Merlin. I’m trying to figure out if this is a date.”
What the hell? Merlin couldn’t believe this was happening. His mind was honest to god reeling. “What about your actual date?”
“What about them? It was a blind date, not,” he gestured with his hand, looking for the right words, “a wedding date.”
Merlin huffed in surprise. “What does that even mean?”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“So you’re just going to blow off your actual date?”
He shrugged. “I can always let them know I’ve changed my mind. It’s not like I actually wanted to date. Besides,” Arthur paused, looking away with a faint blush, “I’d rather go on another date with you.”
Merlin didn’t bother denying the implication that this was currently a date. It was definitely the most spontaneous date he’d been on. “I must say this is an oddly enjoyable date. Not sure about a second date though. What if you mistook me for someone else?” He smiled mischievously.
Arthur slumped and groaned. “I was the book.” He prodded the offending item lying innocently on the table. “My date said they’d have the same one, at this cafe, at this time. What were the chances? ”
“Now that is one hell of a coincident.”
Arthur let out a short laugh. “I can’t believe you just went along with this. I mean, a complete stranger sits with you and you don’t say anything.”
Merlin felt the tips of his ears flushing. He tugged the hair around it to cover it. “Oh, er. Didn’t I? I could have sworn I did.”
Arthur’s eyes twinkled as he smiled smugly. “Taken in by by irresistible charms, were you?”
“You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“And yet you’re going on a second date with me.”
“And a presumptive prat. Do you always assume things like this?”
“I do not presume, I know. You’re like an open book, Merlin. Can’t hide anything,” Arthur said, leaning in as if he were divulging a secret and flashed Merlin a grin.
Merlin had to seriously develop a resistance against that grin, and soon. He could not let Arthur get away with being an ass just because he smiled. Wait. Merlin was staring at his lips. Get a grip, Merlin!
“You’re a dollophead,” he blurted out.
“That is not a word,” Arthur said, dubiously.
Merlin sighed internally as Arthur finally gave him respite from that smile. Whipped, a voice at the back of his mind whispered. Merlin gamely ignored it.
“Sure it is.”
“Describe it.”
“In two words?”
Arthur shrugged. “Sure.”
Merlin smirked. “Prince Arthur.”
Arthur scoffed. “Idiot.” He held his hand out. “Here, give me your phone.”
“Why?”
Arthur shot him an unimpressed look. “Why do you think?”
Merlin unlocked his phone and handed it over, refusing to believe anything until it actually happened. He was not getting any hopes up.
Arthur tapped in his number and likely sent himself a text as his own phone chimed.
“I’ve got to go,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t expect our date to last so long.”
Merlin hid his disappointment behind his mug which he realised was now empty. He should probably get going too.
“Second date will be much better. We can head for dinner after the game.”
“That’s a long date,” Merlin mused.
“You’d better be there,” Arthur said, waggling a warning finger.
“Or else what?” Merlin challenged. His earlier comment had been more in terms of clearing his schedule for an entire evening. He had essays to write, readings to do, magic to practice, and wasn’t a game 90 minutes? Followed by dinner. Maybe he could work on his essays while Arthur played?
Either ways, if Arthur turned out to be some sort of pushy brute who refused to take no for an answer, he had another thing coming. They had been playful so far, but he was serious now.
Arthur frowned and looked away. Merlin scrutinised him. He didn’t seem angry or annoyed. For the first time, he looked unsure, insecure even.
“We could do something else, if you’d prefer? A movie or a picnic, a study date or whatever.” Arthur tried to sound nonchalant, but Merlin could read the tension along his shoulders.
“Arthur.” Merlin waited for their eyes to meet. “I’ll be there.”
The grin transformed Arthur’s face to a blinding degree. Merlin couldn’t help but mirror it.
“Great,”Arthur said, almost breathless.
Merlin stood up, grabbing his thing. “See you on Saturday.”
“It’s a date,” Arthur replied.
Merlin smiled fondly. “Dork.”
Arthur shoved him with his shoulder as he went past him. “Idiot.”
Merlin watched him leave with the dopiest smile on his face. He pulled out his phone and open Arthur’s chat and texted: Cabbagehead.
He grinned when got a response within a few minutes: Shut up, Merlin.