GENRE: Modern AU, humour, crack
DISCLAIMER: NEWSFLASH, I do not own Merlin! I'm sure you'll all be shocked to know.
WARNINGS: Hints of slash (do not like, do not read!), Arthur being an utter prat, LANGUAGE (!), hints of sexual themes
A/N The Arthur in this is based on a real person. No, seriously - someone so ridiculous actually does exist, I swear. And he actually does talk like this. It's his fault for inspiring me to write such ridiculousness!
SUMMARY: Arthur is awesome. Everyone thinks so, most especially him. So when Merlin (a.k.a Ear-man) doesn't take up his offer for a blowjob, Arthur is more than a little confused. Merlin must either be mentally deficient, or utterly blind. Arthur thinks it's the former.
Are you actually REAL?
Arthur's running late. Well, not late per se, because he's Arthur Pendragon and shit waits for him. But he's definitely slightly behind schedule. Vivian had wanted an early-morning fuck, and well, being a kind and giving soul, he had generously complied. Only now he's late – well, not late, merely behind schedule - and he can't fucking wait to see Lance.
He speeds down the campus corridors, knocking over a few scrawny looking students carrying books, and bursts into his small seminar group a few minutes later, feeling really quite proud of himself. Even more so than usual.
He swaggers - looking deviously ruffled and windswept, if he does say so himself - up to his group's table, clutching Vivian's panties from the previous night in a death knuckle grip, and flings the sexy black lace at Lance's face, proclaiming, "Read it and weep, bitches," in a triumphant voice. A pause. "Bitch. Whatever."
His friend eyes it for a moment, picks the knickers up on his pencil, and widens his eyes in a way so comical Arthur will have to remember to post a picture of it on Facebook. Because that's the sort of friend he is.
Lance shakes his head in seeming disbelief, evidently getting with the program. "Dude, you did not?"
"Dude," Arthur replied, puffing out his chest and smiling widely, "I so did."
"Vivian?" Lancelot questions, his eyes twinkling. "You lucky fuck." He shakes his head with a fond sort of exasperation, both amused and disbelieving. "If her father finds out, you'll be deader than the library on a Friday night."
Arthur stretches his arms out above his head, feigning an dramatic yawn after a long wild night, and plonks himself down into an available seat. "If that's the case," he remarks casually, flicking his fringe out of his eye with an exaggerated flourish, "then I will die a happy mother-fucker."
Before Lance can reply, however, one of the table's other occupants (who Arthur had pointedly ignored) decides to join the fray. "Excuse me?" cries the man, looking (like the rest of the group) shocked and incredulous. "Did you seriously just fling some poor girl's underwear at our revision notes?"
Arthur blinks, momentarily startled from his post-coital bliss of managing to nail Vivian, before levelling the man with smug sort of smile. The stranger is pale and thin, all sharp cheekbones and messy black hair, with a long, lithe body; not unattractive as far as things go, but far too weird looking to be Arthur's type. Dressed a little too much like the hobo Arthur flicks the bird at in the street. Not to mention he has the world's most humongous ears.
And so, ignoring the man's words entirely, he simply says, "Dude, your ears!"
The man stares back at him in complete shock, eyebrows rocketing up his forehead and the faint beginnings on a flush blooming on his cheeks. Yes, definitely attractive. It really is a shame about the ears. How unfortunate.
"I'm sorry?" the guy exclaims, as though thinking he surely must have heard Arthur wrong.
"So am I," the blond remarks, shrugging nonchalantly, "to have jug handles attached to the side of your head must be so unfortunate." He actually sounds sincere.
Despite Arthur's sympathy, however, the man's mouth drops open in complete astonishment.
Lancelot snorts behind his pencil, trying to disguise his amusement and looks steadfastly at Vivian's knickers, before muttering, "Mate, shhhh!" through the corner of his mouth. But then again, Lance has always been a pussy, so Arthur can't say he's surprised.
He merely gazes back at the man's flabbergasted expression for a long minute, shrugs, turns back to his friend, and says, "Right, so where was I?" in pointed unconcern. He eyes the lacy piece of fabric with pleasant memories and ignores the idiot still gaping at him soundlessly. "Oh, yeah. So, me and Vivian, I like, I wooed her, seriously…"
The dark-haired man continues to stare at him for the rest of the meeting, mouth wide open, words utterly failing him.
Arthur can't really blame him - he tends to have that effect on people. It's the sheer awesomeness of his presence.
The next time Arthur sees Ear-Man (as his mind has so aptly named him) he's sat in the library throwing paper balls some guy who's wearing a 'I will, I will, Rock your socks' T-shirt. It's not as though the guy doesn't deserve it - he has it coming, really. The T-shirt is practically an invitation for abuse.
So it's a complete mystery as to why Ear-Man gets all prissy.
"Stop harassing people!" the dark-haired man cries, appearing at Arthur's side and causing him to launch his latest paper ball at the ceiling. "This is a library. For reading. Books, in case you're wondering."
Arthur decides that Ear-Man is joking, because everyone who's anyone knows Arthur is a genius. A latent genius, as Morgana calls him, but a genius nevertheless.
"Ear-man!" he greets, ignoring the way the dark-haired man blanches in horror. "Whazzup?"
"Did you just - ?" Ear-Man blinks, looking completely bewildered. "Did you actually just call me Ear-Man?"
"Uh, yuh," Arthur replies, with a sympathetic roll of his eyes. Ear-Man was obviously slow as well as unfortunate looking. Fucking shame. "It's called a nick-name, man. Get used to it."
Ear-Man seems unimpressed, his ears shining beetroot red in the dim light. Which makes the whole thing even more piss-his-pants hilarious, in Arthur's book.
"What's your nickname, then?" the dark-haired man asks, something challenging shining in his eyes. "Dickhead?"
Arthur blinks, frowning in momentary confusion. Did Ear-Man just insult him? He can't have done. He's Arthur Pendragon - there is simply nothing to insult.
"Um, no," he replies, crossing his arms. "You can choose from 'King of the Campus', 'sexy-mother-fucker' or simply 'sire'."
Ear-man stares at him again, with the same expression as last time, as though he can't quite believe what he's hearing. "I hope you're joking," he says at last, and Arthur almost feels offended - or he would if he actually had feelings - because he most certainly was not. "Look, whatever," Ear-Man continues, looking insultingly longsuffering, "I just came to speak to you about our group assignment."
It's Arthur's turn to stare in complete incomprehension. "Huh?" he mouths, raising his eyebrows. What a lame excuse to come and talk to him! Ear-man had even invented a fake group assignment. That was a whole new level of lame. "Dude, what the fuck are you on?"
Ear-man looks like he's about to headdesk the table, but closes his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering, before he finally starts to speak in slow short sentences, as though Arthur is mentally handicapped. "The assignment. For our economics seminar. We're in a group. Me, you, Lance, Aredian, and Gwen."
Arthur continues to eye him dubiously.
Ear-Man flails his arms around, looking like some sort of flapping octopus, and exclaims loudly, "You flung a pair of knickers at your friend's head at our last meeting!"
Oh. That group assignment. Arthur knew that.
"Oh, is that was that was?" he asks, casting his mind back to the meeting and only remembering describing his escapade with Vivian to Lance in vivid detail. How she had arched her back, moaned breathlessly, thighs quivering, and clenched around Arthur's cock, all hot, wet and utterly intoxicating…
Er, wait, what was Ear-man talking about again?
"Oh my god," the dark-haired man breathes, seemingly realising that he'd lost Arthur's attention. "Just - we have a meeting tomorrow. Room 4b. At four. You'll be there, yes?"
Arthur nods, bored with the conversation now, and picks up a paper ball, lobbing it at the back of T-shirt-wearing-loser's head. He scores! Twenty points.
"Whatever, man," he mutters, as Ear-man still hasn't moved. "Laterz. Try and make sure your ears don't grow in the meantime."
Ear-man splutters indigently, a sight that Arthur finds not-so-secretly amusing, before he cries, "My name is Merlin!" and flounces off. Like a total girl, all bouncy steps and swinging arms, head raised so high he doesn't see a step-ladder straight in front of him and trips right over its corner.
Arthur grins after him.
So his name is Merlin. Huh.
…
Arthur thinks Ear-Man is better.
As it turns out, the meeting the next day turns out to be very boring, and more than a little confusing. But that may just be because Arthur hasn't done his research, and doesn't have a flying-fuck what anyone is talking about.
So, handling in the way that every Pendragon knows how, he nods knowingly, makes inappropriate comments, and manages to corner Ear-man after everyone else has left. Or Merlin, as the case may be. Whatever.
"Right," he begins, crowding the dark-haired man into the table as he attempts to pack up his books, "it's your lucky day!"
Ear-man looks alarmed by the sudden proximity and nearly falls over backwards, something that has Arthur's lips quirking in amusement. People often swoon in his presence - and really, who can blame them? - but there have been few that have ever landed flat on their backs on the floor. Well, not unless Arthur's cock had anything to do with it.
"What do you want?" Merlin asks warily, scrambling for his bag and trying to pack up as quickly as possible, as though he's genuinely worried for his own safety. Which is ridiculous, because although Arthur has got done for drink-driving and shit, he's not actually a criminal. Trust Ear-man to be such an utter girl.
"I'm offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity here," he says, raising his chin. "I don't suck many people's cocks, you know."
Merlin's eyes look like they're going to drop out of his head. He boggles. "I'm sorry?" he cries. "What? What the fuck are you talking about?"
Arthur rolls his eyes, done with talking now, because Ear-man is obviously a little bit simple. He gets on his knees, shuffles forward, flicks at the button on Merlin's jeans and sticks his hands in his boxers with as much finesse as he can manage at 9.30 on a Monday morning.
Ear-man flails, lets out a surprised cry, flails some more, trips up his own feet, and actually does end up flat on his back on the floor. He's obviously physical challenged as well. Poor bloke.
"Ok, if you want it on the floor," Arthur says, laughing only slightly, because he's generous like that. He moves forward, until he's only inches away from Merlin's crotch, and makes to shimmy down his jeans.
"What the fuck?" cries Ear-man again, shooting to his feet so quickly Arthur actually wonders how long it takes him to blink. "What the fuck are you doing?"
The blond rolls his eyes. "Uh, trying to give you a blowjob, obviously," he mutters, like he's talking to a small child. Is Ear-man actually mentally retarded? Or have his ears been too much of a distraction for anyone to sleep with him? Arthur nods to himself. Probably both. Poor, poor sod.
"Why?" Merlin squawks, looking around as though he's expected someone to jump out from behind a desk and shout, 'YOU'VE BEEN PUNKED!'
"So you'll write my essay for me," Arthur replies, "obviously." He clambers to his feet. "Fair's fair."
Merlin stares. "Are - are you actually serious?"
Arthur frowns, because yes, he's very serious, and many people have done it for him in past. Often for free. Because he's awesome like that.
"Of course I'm serious," he scoffs. "Just a little essay for mind-blowing sex. An awesome deal if you ask me. And the other people I've had agreements with in the past."
Arthur's a lot more comfortable phrasing it as an 'agreement', because it makes him sound less like a total prostitute, which is what Lance called him when he found out. Not that the blond has any problems with prostitution. He actively encourages it, in fact. But if Arthur were to be a prostitute, he'd certainly be selling his services for a lot more than a 2000 word essay on the world's tumbling economy.
"No!" says Merlin, startling Arthur from his thoughts about receiving expensive diamond gifts for his services, just like from Moulin Rouge. "No way am I doing your essay for you, you lazy sod. No matter how many blowjobs you give me!"
Arthur had stopped listened at 'no'. "What did you just say?" he mouths, utterly incredulous. Because surely there must be misunderstanding. He's fucking hot - far out of Ear-man's league, if he does say so himself. And anyone with an ounce of taste - people with ear fetishes notwithstanding - would agree.
"You heard me!" Merlin replies, shaking his head violently. "You can do your own work - I'm not your slave!"
"Obviously not," Arthur snips, more than a little irritated. He's Arthur Pendragon and he's offering to give someone who reads Sci-fi books in his spare time a blowjob - Merlin should be bloody well grovelling! "I don't pay my slaves with blowjobs!"
Merlin looks as though he's about to have an aneurysm. "Oh my - I can't even - I don't even - I -" He flings up his hands in evident defeat, words utterly failing him. He takes a minute to compose himself, scanning Arthur's face like he's trying to see if he's joking, before he says, "Are you even real? Surely nobody can be so utterly pig-headed!"
Realising that he's fighting a losing battle, Arthur decides that he really needs to revaluate the situation. "Real?" he scoffs, turning on a heel and making for the door, in the way of a tactical retreat, "Dude, I'm the stuff dreams are made of."
He stalks out the classroom, not sparing Ear-man a second glance - because really, it's not as though he's worth it - and slams the door shut behind him, teeth grinding in frustration.
It was just a retreat. It wasn't as though he fled the scene like a coward. He's Arthur Pendragon and he always gets what he wants. And that includes getting a stupid little nerd to write his essay for him.
It's about more than the work now - it's a matter of principle.
Arthur does not take kindly to being rejected.
Morgana says it's because Uther is such a distant father, and so Arthur craves attention in every other aspect of his life in order to feel accepted, but he really doesn't think so. And he's always right. He just doesn't take kindly to rejection because he's Arthur Pendragon, and he's so awesome it should actually be a crime to reject him. But he has come to realise that Merlin is either really stupid (in more than a slightly idiotic way), or utterly blind.
Nevertheless, blind or not, Merlin deserves to pay for letting him flounce out an empty classroom with a hard-on. He'd even had to go to Sophia to get her to sort it out for him, something he never does unless he's really drunk, or really desperate. Well, not desperate per se, because he's never desperate. But when he's more than a little horny.
So after spending an hour to listening to Sophia rattling on about shoes, post-orgasm, it's only right that he takes revenge. Not as in like, I'm going to poison your food and stick pins in a voodoo doll, because he's not a sociopath. But he figures a mild form of humiliation will do Merlin a world of good.
Which is why Arthur takes a very discreet ('cause he's totally stealthy) picture of Merlin, posts it on Facebook, and paints a great big arrow next to it, reading 'EAR-MAN' in bold red lettering.
His latent genius surprises even himself, sometimes.
Oh, how his friends lol'd.
The next day, as Arthur is sitting at a table with his friends feeling very self-satisfied - and not in a 'I-got-laid-last-night' way, either - he sees Merlin for the first time since the 'incident'.
The man is scrambling about in the café queue, looking like a complete and utter moron, trying to balance vegetables and shit on a very small looking tray. He's so engrossed in his task, brow furrowing, he doesn't even notice Arthur sat only ten feet away, with Lance, Owain and Gareth. Which is a shame, because Arthur looks particularly ravishing this morning, and it's a pleasure to look at him. Or so his friends say. But that might just be because he's buying them drinks.
Nevertheless, realising that Merlin isn't going to approach him, Arthur decides to handle the situation with his usual dignity and grace, and begins to talk in a loud booming voice about his latest sexapades. It's not as though he wants Merlin's attention or anything, but any sort of reaction would be nice. He did after all, post a picture of him on Facebook with 'EAR-MAN' written next to it. That at least deserves a glance.
"I was like 'NOOOOO, shit man!'" he says to his friends, in a fascinating tale of his night from two days ago, glancing out the corner of his eye to check if Merlin could see him. But no, Ear-Man is too busy adding a fruit-shoot (what, is he twelve?) to his tray and looking up at the special's menu. Maybe he's deaf as well as blind. Arthur would have thought that the over-sized ears would help with that, but whatever. He continues casually. "And he was like 'Yeah, way man!' And I was like 'fuuuccckkkkk!'"
"Noooo," Owain says, clapping him loudly on the back, in a completely testorone filled gesture. "That sounds fucking mental."
"Yeah, man," Arthur replies, nodding importantly. "Totally. It was bat-shit insane."
Lance shakes his head in exasperation, looking bemused by Arthur's rather questionable hobbies, like the complete hypocrite that he is; Arthur knows for a fact he shagged a girl called Gwen in the boy's showers only two days before. He has pictures. Only he's yet put them on Facebook, 'cause he still hasn't thought of an appropriate tagline. Drawing a great big arrow above Lance's dick and writing 'COCK' next to it just seems a bit too simple.
"What the fuck, man?" Lance says, obviously oblivious to Arthur's internal struggle concerning his cock. "Aren't you supposed to be doing our group assignment? It pretty much sounds like you've just spent the last week dicking around."
Arthur sniggers at 'dick'. "Under control, you pussy," he remarks, eyeing up Merlin finally paying for his food. About time. The loser is taking longer than the crippled old lady Arthur watches struggle with her three-hundred bags in the kiosk every morning. "The shitty little project will be finished - I just need to find someone to do it for me."
"I'll do it!" Gareth offers, like the complete suck-up he is.
Arthur rolls his eyes. "I was referring to someone with a brain, dickhead," he replies easily. Someone like Merlin.
Lance opens his mouth to reply - in a manner that will no doubt make Arthur want to punch him - when there's a loud squawking sound from a few metres away.
It turns out to be Merlin (something that doesn't surprise Arthur at all, considering he's deaf, blind and completely simple) being a complete idiot, tripping up Aredian's feet and hurting half-way across the café. His tray goes flying, sending fruit and something that looks like strew all over the place, and Merlin falls, like a flailing starfish, hard to the ground.
Arthur's friends immediately erupt into peels of laughter as Aredian smirks, looking down on Merlin's motionless sprawl and muttering, "Loser," before stalking away.
Merlin scrambles onto his hands and knees, cursing Aredian, his mother, and the world in general, with his face flaming in embarrassment.
Owain blinks at him for a moment, grin fading, before a look of recognition flickers across his face. He squawks excitedly, eyes widening, and exclaims to Arthur (and the whole café), "Oh my god, man, it's EAR-MAN off your Facebook!" in a loud incredulous voice. He laughs again, harder and louder, stabbing his finger in Merlin's direction with about as much subtlety as Arthur has come to expect. He'd obviously seen the picture then.
There's a pause, in which Merlin looks up and spots them, face crumbling into something hurt and pleading, (sort of like a street-urchin, the blond notes) before Arthur's friends break into another round of laughter. With much pointing and general exclamations of 'EAR-MAN!'
Well, all except Lance, the pussy.
Merlin stumbles to his feet, looking shocked and humiliated, and all but flees the café, the vegetables and stew he spent half-an-hour choosing left deserted behind him.
Arthur does nothing but stare.
Well, that hadn't exactly gone according to plan.
The next time Arthur sees Merlin, he's hurrying through campus, carrying an armful of books, and wearing a black beanie hat pulled tight over his ears. Weird. He's never seen Merlin in a beanie hat before.
The blond frowns at the sight, and something drops out the pit of his stomach. There's a new feeling bubbling in his gut - something sharp, twisting, and almost painful. Could it be…guilt?
Arthur shakes his head. It can't be - he doesn't have feelings.
It must just be something he ate.
It's not like Arthur is a stalker or anything. He's far too cool to do something so desperate and utterly degrading. He's the football captain, he's a honours student, and if he does say it himself, he's an around perfect guy. He's not even making it up, it's a well know fact - he even has a face book group dedicated to his extreme awesomeness. Which is why he is not, in any way, a pathetic stalker.
He is merely observing Merlin and the ugly hat. And if that involves sneaking around campus with his hood up, spying through discreet holes in newspapers, and ducking behind pillars that are thinner than he is, then, well, who's to argue? He's Arthur Pendragon, and no matter what questionable activities he chooses in his spare him, he is still awesome.
He just wants to destroy Merlin's new beanie hat, that's all. It's ugly - an eyesore, a crime against fashion. And he'll be doing a favour to the world by getting rid of it. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way Merlin's face had dropped in the café, all sad and upset. He's not bothered in any way. At all. He's Arthur Pendragon, and he is far too cool for that.
He just has to get rid of the hat, that's all. It's for the good of humanity.
After much general following - or stalking, as Lance so aptly put it - Arthur finally sees his opportunity two days later.
Merlin's walking home from the library, like the complete nerd he is, and still wearing a beanie hat, books clutched tightly at his chest. It's dark, the campus is mostly empty, and at risk of feeling far too much like a creepy murderer, Arthur finally chooses to show himself.
Although, thinking about it, jumping out from behind a wall with an explanation of 'SURPRISE!' and stealing the man's hated beanie hat, probably isn't a good way to not seem like a sociopath. At least if Merlin's reaction is anything to go by.
He lets out a very womanly cry, stumbles backwards, almost trips up his own feet, and does some very comedic windmill arms - which Arthur wishes he had a picture of - until the blond takes pity on him and helps him regain his balance. Because he's nice like that. And also doesn't want Merlin to report him for assault.
"Hey!" Ear-man exclaims, once he's got his wits back about him, face flushing and eyes narrowing. "You're not funny, you know! Why can't you and your stupid friends leave me alone - I've had enough of them laughing at me over the last few days!" He clamps his hands over his ears, shivering from the cold, and realises his hat has been stolen. "Give me my hat back!"
"Why?" Arthur asks curiously, dangling it out of reach. Both because he has every intention of burning it, and because it's kind of funny watching Ear-man grow steadily redder with anger.
"Because I want to wear it!" Merlin argues, picking up his books that had scattered all over the floor and trying to snatch it back.
"Don't," Arthur orders, with a pitying shake of his head. Did the man have no fashion sense at all? "The hat is ugly."
"I don't care what you think, you insensitive prick!" Merlin retorts, and although he sounds angry there's something rough and raw about his voice, tainted with bitterness and venom. Like he's genuinely upset or something. "It's your fucking fault I have to wear it, so I can actually walk around without people pointing and going 'Oh my god, that's EAR-MAN off Facebook!'"
Arthur blinks. He opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. He doesn't know what to say. Interesting. That's never happened before.
"What's wrong with Ear-man?" he says at last, shrugging off the tight feeling that was curling in his chest. "It's a term of endearment."
Merlin laughs humourlessly. "No, it isn't," he argues, defiance shining in his eyes. "It's just you being nasty."
Arthur steps closer, the challenge hanging heavy in the air between them, and reaches up a hand, stroking the shell of Merlin's ear and fingering the lobe. "Not true," he says, as Merlin lets out a hiss of breath, although it really sort of is. But he'd only meant it as a joke - he hadn't known how sensitive Merlin would be. Although to be fair, he probably should have guessed. The man had utter girl written all over him.
"Don't," Merlin whispers, but he doesn't move away and his voice cracks breathlessly.
Taking his reaction as a cue to continue, Arthur moves until he's pressed up against Merlin's chest and breathes hotly against the man's ear, before flicking out his tongue and licking the lobe. Simply because he wants to; he can't help it, he often gets strange urges.
"I think big ears are sexy," he murmurs, suddenly finding that he's not actually lying, especially as Merlin jumps slightly and shudders. "They're very responsive."
Merlin pants. "What are you doing?" he asks, sounding a little bit terrified, despite being completely glued to the spot. His breath is coming out in short sharp pants and his eyes are glazed, as though hypnotized.
"Just showing you how awesome your ears are," Arthur replies with a faint laugh, nuzzling his nose against them softly. The skin is warm and damp, shining with sweat, and Arthur can practically the frantic pounding of Merlin's pulse beneath the translucent skin. "I'm taking the hat, and I am going to burn it. Understood?"
Merlin makes a small squeaking sound that is sort of cute.
Arthur chooses to take it as affirmative. He breathes in deeply, warm against Merlin's skin, and presses a small kiss against the side of his ear, just because he can. He pulls away, shoves the beanie hat in his pocket, and mutters, "Later, Ear-man," with a small cheeky smile.
Merlin blinks, still looking a little bit shell-shocked, and watches him go, his knuckles white against his grip on his books.
Arthur grins, practically skips away, feeling an awful lot proud of himself for reasons he doesn't really want to contemplate.
He's Arthur Pendragon, and it's official: he is bloody well awesome!
END
A/N The plot seems to have vanished! LOL. Very different than my usual style of writing, but I had lots of fun with it!
This was originally intended to be longer, but I cut it down to make it a one-shot. I might continue it at some point, but I'm making no promises!
Please R&R :)