Arthur Pendragon.
Arthur Pendragon embodied the stereotypical popular boy with all the elements Merlin abhorred. There were enough American television shows with jocks having stories to prove that they weren't all two-dimensional twats, and while Merlin was sure that Arthur Pratdragon wasn't entirely intolerable and might have a couple of satisfactory qualities, he sure as hell never witnessed them.
They were, essentially, opposites. Completely and irrefutably opposites. The day they met, Merlin chastised Arthur for being a dick to another student, and then Arthur was a dick to him. It got Merlin a bit of a bad reputation. After all, he was a newbie at the sixth form, not to mention somewhat of a loner. The type of kid who'd probably run a shady hipster blog in their spare time with nebulas and fish-eye pictures of greyscale lawnchairs.
In actuality, his blog was full of Potter Puppet Pals and Sherlock, but that's beside the point.
Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emerson were like yin and yang, only less poetic: they butted heads once and bestowed glares upon one another whenever they passed each other in corridors, Arthur's football mates took the liberty of putting down Merlin's name on an audition for Romeo and Juliet as Juliet, and in retaliation Merlin had sneaked into the locker rooms to replace soap with itching powder and deodorant with perfume.
Those were merely a couple of the many reasons why Arthur should not be within the same vicinity for an elongated period of time, none of which the teachers found valid at all, and so here they were - sitting beside each other on a coach on a school trip.
Smashing.
Merlin almost wished he hadn't saved up for this trip. He worked part-time in a library after school, and as a receptionist at a clinic on weekends, facing school kids who left revision to days before exams that screamed at him and elderly people with dying pets that made him feel just as morose as they were. No wonder Will laughed at him all the time. He had no right to do so, however; Will was still not forgiven for killing Merlin's goldfish when they were five.
His reminiscing was brought to an abrupt halt when one of his earphones was wrenched from his ears. He breathed deeply, willing himself not to react because he should be used to this, damn it, and Arthur's friends could probably hurt him pretty easily.
It hadn't been fun discovering that.
"What?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant rather than agitated, as that only prompted them to act more like gits than they already were.
"I asked how you got on this trip, Emerson," Player Nine-Merlin couldn't remember ever learning his name at all-drawled, eyebrows raising.
"I paid," replied Merlin shortly, offering a small smile and getting a glare in return. All right, sarcasm not appreciated then.
"Jake, just - just stop, yeah? Stop haggling innocent people and go back to sexting your girlfriend. On a Blackberry. Classy, by the way," another guy piped up, before leaning over Merlin's seat and giving him a lopsided smile. "Merlin Emerson, right? I'm Gwaine, and I apologise on behalf of all of us for being forced to be near Arthur."
At this point, Arthur finally stopped ignoring Merlin entirely and looked away from his book. Merlin tried to glimpse the title for curiosity's sake, but Arthur seemed adamant on not letting him. "Gwaine," he began cordially, smile condescending and warning, only with the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes, "do stop talking. You lower the IQ of the whole coach."
Gwaine opened his mouth to object, but Merlin found himself cutting in abruptly, "Are you quoting Sherlock?"
Arthur glanced at him, appearing conflicted in answering. Merlin's sudden excitement over discovering someone else who liked Sherlock dwindled in response to Arthur's hesitance to acknowledge his very existence. He felt stupid and more than a bit embarrassed, so he moved to duck his head and ignore them again, but finally received a begrudging response. "Yeah, I am." Before Merlin could debate about striking up conversation about it, Arthur turned to scowl at Gwaine. "I swear, any Arthur and Merlin references-"
"Nah, I'm done for now. Let it all out to you before the trip," Gwaine promised.
"Speaking of which," Number Nine said, apparently undeterred, "why are you here again, Emerson?"
"Jake," Arthur said exasperatedly, sounding as if he'd had to rebuke his teammate on more than one occasion. Merlin wasn't sure if to feel grateful for Arthur's interference, or irritated. The latter was probably safer; wouldn't do to sacrifice his rivalry with Arthur. It was a big part of what kept him going during school days.
"Nah, I mean," Jake persisted, "Emerson here, he used to work at - Shit, what's it called? Some shop I take my girlfriend to, Primark or something - and just, he always..." Arthur shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not amused as he normally seemed when he teased Merlin. Merlin just sort of wished he would, just for once, tell his braindead friend to stop talking. "Just, you're lucky to get into our sixth form at all, y'know? And you can apparently afford coming on trips with us. It's like... I mean, are you a charity or do you deal drugs? 'Cause I-"
"Jake," said Merlin, putting his earphones back in slowly, "do stop talking; you lower the IQ of the whole bus."
There was only a minute pause as Jake baulked, affronted and astonished, before Gwaine started laughing and smacking Jake on the back, forcing him to sit down and stop pestering Merlin. Finally, tension drained from Merlin's hunched shoulders and he leaned back into his seat with a sigh.
For a moment, he thought he caught Arthur smiling.
As quickly as the smile had appeared, it had disappeared and was immediately replaced with a fierce scowl.
Merlin rolled his eyes and turned all of his attention to the small ipod in his hand, choosing to play his songs at its loudest volume; drowning out the sounds of the coach's occupants.
Hearing Merlin's music blasting through the headphones, Jake smirked and reached for the rugged backpack lying under Merlin's chair.
"Let's see what he's got. There's no way he could have afforded to come on this trip without doing something dodgy." he muttered to himself. Grasping the tattered straps, he gave a sharp tug to lift it onto his lap. Gwaine, noticing his friend's actions, leaned over and gripped his wrist tightly.
"Mate, what are you doing? Just leave Emerson alone, he's not doing anything to you."
Jake raised an eyebrow, irritated that Gwaine had the audacity to tell him what to do, before shrugging his arm out of Gwaine's hand, and rifling through the backpack. Narrowing his eyes, Gwaine growled, and made a frantic lunge for the backpack. (He would later note that this was not the smartest move he has ever made.) Unfortunately for Gwaine, Merlin and Arthur, the event that followed did not seem to work out in any of their favours.
In Gwaine's case, it was as though time had stopped. He saw Merlin's backpack fall to the floor in slow motion, the contents spilling all over the gangway of the coach floor. He barely registered that he was already halfway out of his seat, until he found himself face down or the floor in an undignified manner (this was no way for a Knight to be seen) - legs in the air and his prized possession (hair) strewn across his face and the dirty floor.
Arthur - having been disturbed yet again from his riveting yet secret book, turned around, ready to yell at his Knights, only to find himself face to face (well, cheek) with Gwaine's perfectly formed arse. He stopped himself from staring, and turned his attention to the items on the floor. Rolling his eyes, Arthur skirted around Merlin's chair, careful not to disturb the seemingly asleep pale boy, and bent over to pick up the items. Unfortunately, Merlin woke up at that exact moment and took in the scene around him.
He saw Arthur picking up a small leather bound diary and snapped.
"You prat! What gives you the right to snoop through my personal belongings!"
Arthur stared at the normally quiet boy's sudden outburst.
"You think that because you're a Pendragon and a Knight that you can do whatever the hell you want?" Merlin continued, wrenching the book out of his hand.
"But I - " Arthur was interrupted by a loud laugh.
"Look everyone, Emerson brought a stuffed dragon with him!" Jake announced to the coach, holding up a small, worn red dragon for everyone to see. Merlin stared in horror, his blue eyes wide, mouth slightly open.
"Give him back" he muttered in a hollow tone. Jake just ignored him and continued to wave the dragon around, laughing with everyone else.
Arthur watched in fascination as Merlin seemed to go through a variety of emotions - shock, anger, sadness, determination in less than a second. Noticing that Merlin's eyes were slightly wet. Arthur sighed and turned away, trying not to make things more awkward than it already was. A hand clapped Jake's shoulder, while another plucked the dragon from Jake's grip. The owner of the hands was Lance, a man of average height and build, with tanned skin, who also happened to be Arthur's vice captain, but was a better man in spite of it. Lance walked forward and handed the dragon back to Merlin with an apologetic smile. Turning around he sent a sharp glare to everyone who was laughing, which immediately shut them up.
Suddenly, there was a loud screech and everyone covered their eyes. "Sorry about that" the voice of their teacher boomed, "We have arrived at Camp Albion, so please gather your things and be prepared to leave the coach."
The boys lined up in front of the reception, all of them jostling each other in their haste to find out who their room mates were.