"You're in my spot."
Merlin looked up, confused, and saw a blond with a particularly sour expression glaring at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we had assigned seats. What are you? Five years old?"
The man's brows furrowed and he stepped even closer to Merlin. "I don't think you understand. This is strategically the best seat in the classroom. Not in the front with the overeager freshman, nor is there someone obnoxiously tall in front of me. Why don't you go sit in the back with all of the other slackers?" His eyes looked Merlin up and down, taking in his battered boots and his frayed jeans. "Now, let me repeat myself. You are in my spot."
"No."
At the sound of that one word, the blond's eyebrows darted up into his hairline in a moment of surprise only to narrow once more. "No?"
"No," Merlin repeated. "I was here first and therefore this is my spot, and I'm not going to let some prat with a Rolex and a leather bag—seriously, leather? Do you know how many animals died for your godforsaken bag? —take my spot."
The blond looked stunned; hell, Merlin was stunned. He'd never seen the guy before in his life, but the fact that he had the ire to ask Merlin to switch seats at eight in the morning was ridiculous. Granted, Merlin was in this seat for that exact reason, but that was regardless.
Something in Merlin's tone made the man sink instead into the seat behind Merlin. "Who are you?" he asked with disbelief. "Savior of the classroom? Rescuer of the chairs? A vegetarian?"
"Shut up." It was early in the morning, and Merlin was tired. And coffee-less. The coffeemaker in the café was broken and the barista said that it would be fixed by nine, which was unfortunate for people with class at eight-in-the-goddamn-morning. Like Merlin.
"Given the alarming state of your dress," the blond continued, impervious to Merlin's sulk, "I'd say that you were a freshman, but you can't be, not given your attitude. So, what? Junior? Probably majoring in something utterly ridiculous like English or Philosophy."
His statement remained suspended, waiting for Merlin to rise to the bait. Given that he is only human, Merlin couldn't help but mutter, "I'm in Education." He wasn't going to admit to the blond asshole that it was with an English focus; that would be like waving a red flag in front of the bull.
"Oh, a teacher. That sounds fantastic. Want to poison our youth's minds with your anti-leather and vegetarian ways, eh?" Merlin didn't respond. "So what are you doing in Introduction to Anatomy?"
"Science requirement," Merlin retorted.
Ah, the joys of a liberal arts education. Some genius decided that it would be a fantastic idea for every student to "spread their wings and sample a wide variety subjects," or in other words, force students to take classes like Introduction to Anatomy or deny them that paper key to their future. Merlin suspected Communists. Or Texans.
Further, it forced students to interact with people outside of their major—like blond idiots who probably study something like Business or Economics.
Merlin ended up spending the hour cursing himself for choosing the class because who really wants to dissect the dead animals at eight am and smell like formaldehyde the rest of the day, and somewhere between cursing everyone from his adviser who let him sign up for the class to his mother who obviously was at fault for wanting him to go to college and do something with his life, he missed Professor Hansen (or was it Hanfield? Hammer?) announce, "Pick your lab partner."
He watched the freshman flock together and squawk over working together, and he didn't realize that he didn't have a partner yet.
"Does anyone need a partner?" Professor Ham asked, and Merlin saw the blond standing by the good professor, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
No.
"It looks like that lad doesn't have a partner. Why doesn't you work with him?"
Merlin stared at the chalkboard, ignoring the boy as he sat next to him in a huff.
"You know that we have to work together now, don't you?"
Merlin didn't respond.
"You're a stubborn idiot, aren't you?"
He pulled out his notebook and tried to take notes and failed. He began to doodle a picture of Professor Hand riding a unicorn in the margins.
"My name is Arthur."
His pencil stopped.
"I'm Merlin."
The blond let out a heavy sigh and leaned close. "Fan-fucking-tastic, now let's just try to pass this class, shall we?"
It didn't go up from there.
"We're not naming the cat."
"It's name is Kilgarrah."
"Merlin, we have to dissect the cat, not take it home for snuggle time. And who names their cat Kilgarrah?"
In fact, it got worse.
"We're not supposed to skin the cat until we're told to!"
Arthur looked up from the cat. Its tongue was lolled out to the side and it was staring at Merlin cross-eyed. "And you always do what your professors tell you? It's called taking an initiative." The blond snorted. "You were probably one of those children knit tea cozys with their dad on the weekend."
"My father is dead, you utter ass."
There was a sharp sound as Arthur dropped the scissors on the lab table and then scrambled to pick them up.
Merlin didn't say anything. As far as "get to you know yous" went, he usually saved the dead father card until the third or fourth date. But something about Arthur made his blood boil and his chest clench in rage. Who gave this blond prick the right to decide who Merlin was just because of how he dressed?
But Arthur stood over the dead cat, turning the scissors over in his hands and biting his lip. He refused to meet Merlin's eyes.
Merlin let out a sigh. "Just… just give me the scissors."
The next class, Merlin found a cup of coffee and a lemon poppy seed muffin at his desk.
Arthur didn't say anything, but he watched Merlin with a smile as he tore into the muffin.
"This doesn't mean that we're friends."
"I know."
One day Arthur came storming into class, phone pressed to his ear, and threw his bag on the desk before storming outside the classroom again. Merlin was used to these temper tantrums, and this was no where as bad as the time after they got their first test back and Arthur found out that Merlin beat him by a point and refused to sit next to him all week and sat by the freshman—this Merlin could handle, but Arthur pacing outside in the hall he couldn't.
As Professor Hansen (Merlin was pleased to know that he was right the first time) started to set up the PowerPoint, Merlin let the room in a hurried, "Bathroom please?"
He found Arthur down the hall by the vending machines. His phone was clenched between his hands.
"Uh, class is starting."
"I know."
"Aren't you going?"
"No."
Merlin slid on the floor next to him. "You know that your stuff is in there, right?"
Arthur let out a shaky laugh. "Yes, I know, you idiot." His head fell back against the wall. "My dad is just being… my dad." Merlin didn't know what to say. It wasn't like they were friends, and after the father comment a couple of weeks back, Merlin stopped offering up personal information. So Arthur kept on talking. "He thinks I'm being 'reckless' with my future, and I need to 'reevaluate my life' because 'who's going to hire an art major.'"
Wait.
"You're an art major? Oh that's grand. And you gave me shit about being in Education."
"Priorities, Merlin. This conversation is about me, not you." But Arthur's shoulders visibly relaxed. "And clearly states on my Facebook page that I'm studying art."
"We're not Facebook friends."
"You never creeped on me?"
Of course Merlin wasn't going to admit that he had creeped on Arthur. In fact, he creeped so many times on the blond's profile that whenever he typed in the website, Arthur's url came up in autofill.
"Are you boys coming to class?" Professor Hansen stuck his head out the door.
They scrambled to their feet.
"Oh, Arthur?"
"Yeah?"
"I think your dad's an idiot."
That night he friend requested Arthur.
The acceptance came in about 30 seconds.
And then everything changed.
Merlin was no longer angry every morning when his alarm rudely told him that it was time to go to Anatomy. In fact, he began setting his alarm half-an-hour early so that he would have time to shower before class.
Arthur began coming to class with an extra cup that "the idiot barista" just happened to give him and sometimes he would swipe Merlin a croissant from the dining hall after he heard that they were his favorite.
"What are you doing tonight?" Arthur asked after one class.
"I have a Victorian Lit essay due on Friday. Why?"
Arthur held the door as they walked out of the science building and stepped onto the quad. Merlin couldn't help but notice how nice Arthur's face looked in the autumn light. It really wasn't fair.
"My frat is having a party tonight."
"You would be in a frat."
"Shut up, Merlin. I'm trying to invite you to the party."
"Wait, what?" Merlin stopped on the path, forcing a couple of bike riders to veer off into the grass.
Arthur shifted from foot to foot. "I mean, only if you want to go."
"Sure." Merlin usually wasn't a fan of frat parties, but if it meant that he could see Arthur in all of his drunken-frat glory, then, hell, sign him up.
"Just to let you know, it's a costume party. It's Halloween after all."
"I'm not dressing up, Arthur."
But Arthur just grinned and rattled off directions, telling him to come at ten.
Later that night, Merlin convinced a very disgruntled Will to come with him. He pulled his leather jacket close to him.
"There better be girls there."
"Sorority girls," Merlin promised.
When they turned down Main Street, they quickly found the house. It wasn't that hard, what with the girls dressed as sexy nurses or witches pouring out the front door and the topless guys having a swordfight with plastic swords out front. Merlin wasn't sure they could get any more stereotypical or cliché. But then they walked in.
Merlin pushed through the throng of people, not trying to get anywhere in particular, but trying to move out of the hot mess of bodies bobbing to the heavy bass. Will was gone and Merlin found himself in the kitchen.
"Merlin!" He turned to find a very topless Arthur barreling towards him and wrapping his arms around him in a manly hug.
"Who are you supposed to be?"
"I'm King Arthur, duh!" Arthur pointed to his Burger King crown.
Merlin laughed and then became very aware that this was the first time that they talked to each other outside of class.
But Arthur pushed a drink into his hand, grabbed the other, and led him out the back door and into the yard. There were fewer people out here, but he could barely think what with Arthur's fingers curled around his wrist like that.
The yard opened up into a field. Arthur pulled a t-shirt out of the back of his jeans and yanked it over his head.
"Don't worry, I'll take it off again if you ask me nicely," Arthur said with a wink.
Oh.
Oh.
"Don't be an ass," Merlin said. He stretched out on the ground and looked at the stars.
Arthur sat next to him in a huff. "Why don't you like me?"
"I swear to God you act like you're five sometimes. What makes you think that I don't like you?"
"Don't be an idiot, Merlin. I mean, why don't you find me attractive."
"Because the first time I met you, you successfully insulted my major, looks, and the way I dress. And you mocked Kilgarrah." Arthur winced and then opened his mouth to argue again. "But for some reason I still like you."
That shut Arthur up.
"You're an overeager ass, who has a strange fascination with skinning cats, but you're also a lovely person who brings me coffee. To be honest, you could've asked me out after the first time you bought me coffee and I probably would've blew you right then and there."
Arthur made a choking sound. "What the hell am I getting myself into?"
But he rolled on his side, his face hovering over Merlin's. He didn't realize how blue his eyes truly were.
"Just kiss me." He snaked a hand into Arthur's hair and surged up to kiss him. Even though Arthur tasted like stale beer and Doritos, it somehow felt so right when Arthur moved his head to the left to bite at Merlin's lip.
"Go out with me?" Arthur breathed.
Merlin leaned in to kiss him again. "Only if we can name the cat Kilgarrah."