(A/N): Hey guys! A short seasonal fic (Hopefully part of a little set, we'll see!) that popped into my mind the other day. Shouldn't be more than a few Chapters - ten, tops - and should be super fluffy and just sort of cosy.
The on-set of Christmas has triumphantly gotten its claws into me and I am so in the spirit it's crazy.
Happy Reading!
Chapter One
"You're just sore because Leon pinned Morgana down long enough to get a date when you can't even get her to look at you without puking."
Merlin looked up from the shelf he was sorting, hearing the low drift of a familiar voice as it carried through the doors ahead of its owner. He could feel his heart start to pick up its pace.
"Hey! That's completely not true and you're a blaggard even to say it!"
Merlin felt the smile curling his lips as he turned back to the pile of books by his feet. The owner of the first voice made an indignant sound, shortly followed by the second voice letting out a screech. Merlin had seen the pair around enough in his three years with the library that he knew exactly what had happened.
Tall with dark curls had pinched his friend in the ribs, the one who looked like he'd stepped out of a pirate movie. Merlin knew his name, too, from hearing his friends repeatedly hiss it in various annoyed and irritated manners on their visits to the library. Gwaine, he was called. And under normal circumstances Merlin wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off him, if it wasn't for the fact that he and every other guy like him had been overshadowed the first time Merlin had set eyes on the blonde who usually arrived with Gwaine and his friends.
Hence the reason for Merlin's heart beginning to race.
Despite the instinctive urge, Merlin didn't look up when they walked through the big glass doors, or when they walked past the circular corner that served as his desk. He kept his head down until they'd chosen an area, the large round table they sat at more often than not. He listened to them dumping rucksacks and dropping textbooks on the tabletop, the scattered sound of pens and pencils and the metallic clip of laptop lids being opened.
That was when Merlin took a peek and felt his insides turn vaguely gooey.
He was there, in amidst the pleasant bickering, the kind of bickering Merlin did with Will and sometimes Gwen. The type of bickering his mum and Uncle Gaius got up to. It was playful with little heat and often made Merlin want to be part of it, when he heard it. The man of Merlin's daydreams had already chosen a seat, his fingers tapping at the keyboard of his silver notebook even as his head was angled to one side to listen to the friend next to him, a half-smile on his lips.
For three years, Merlin had watched him from afar and even though the closest he'd ever gotten to a conversation was when he recommended an alternative textbook that one time, he still couldn't help hoping and wishing that there would come a day when the bloke arrived at the library without his usual posse and that they would… Well, talking would be a good start.
o0o0o0o
"Oh, he looked over." Gwaine hissed, leaning in towards Arthur's face.
Arthur pretended not to understand, concentrating more than necessary on typing in his password to get his essay to open.
"Hm?"
"Oh don't play dumb, Pendragon. I noticed you notice him notice you."
Arthur frowned a little, finally flicking his gaze to Gwaine, despite the steadfast urge to look for him.
"What? Wasn't listening."
Gwaine raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and lounging back in his chair.
"Oh right? Must have been some other scrawny-looking bloke you were mooning over then. My mistake."
"I wasn't mooning over hi- Shut up." Arthur caught on too late, narrowing his eyes at the growing grin on Gwaine's tanned face.
"Oh, just admit it and shut him up, I've three thousand words to write by Friday and I'm damned if I'm going to have to check over every one of them the night before just because I've been too busy pulling you two apart."
Arthur and Gwaine turned to throw matching scandalised expressions Lance's way. Lance had his head buried in a book already and didn't bother even looking up.
"You're supposed to be my mate." Arthur complained, pushing Gwaine away when the numpty thought he could get away with nicking Arthur's coffee cup. "Get your own, Gwaine."
Gwaine didn't seemed fazed, turning promptly to the next coffee in his line of sight and snagging it from the tabletop. He'd downed two almost-burning-but-nearly-drinkable mouthfuls before the owner realised.
"Hey!" Elyan grouched, reaching for the cup and scowling when Gwaine lifted it above his head, out of reach.
"Gotta be on your toes, pipsqueak. Lesson number… What are we on now, eighty four?"
Gwaine grinned when the younger boy gave up, dropping back into his chair with a defeated sigh, his eyes watching almost longingly as Gwaine raised the cup towards him in a cheers gesture.
"Gotta work on your reflexes. Always be alert and vigilant."
"Cut it with the Unagi shite, Ross." Lance scolded without raising his head, pushing his untouched coffee cup towards Elyan, who swiped it up before Gwaine could even consider it.
"That's Professor Gellar to you, and if you're going to be such a spoilsport, you're going to be Monica." Gwaine retorted, draining the cup and clicking it down on the table triumphantly, earning a suspicious look from Arthur, who promptly pushed it further from the growing pile of papers he was pulling from his bag.
"Fine." Lance replied, still not looking up from the textbook he was flicking through. "Because we all know I've been able to kick your arse since we were in nappies."
Arthur smirked and Elyan hid his snigger - poorly - in the coffee cup in his hands. Gwaine made an indecipherable squawk that landed somewhere between Hold on a minute, that's simply untrue and You've got it the wrong way round, mate. Lance still didn't lift his head, but Arthur could see a clear smile toying with his lips.
Gwaine crossed his arms and sat petulantly for a time, letting his gaze wander and tapping absently on the edge of the table with one of the pens he'd stolen from someone or other. The others ignored him, absorbed in their own studies, nobody feeling up to the chore of trying to set Gwaine on his own track. If left alone long enough he usually came round. Usually. Once everyone was sick to death of his antics. But usually.
Arthur was balancing a booklet on the edge of his laptop and carefully highlighting, lid between his teeth, when Gwaine let out a long-suffering sigh. Arthur paused what he was doing, his gaze flicking up to see what Gwaine was about to do. Gwaine didn't look at Arthur, his gaze unfocused but pointed vaguely in Lance's direction, before drifting to Elyan. Gwaine stilled, and a familiar glint twinkled in his eye as his mouth began to curl into a smirk that had infuriated Arthur as many times as it had humoured him. Arthur could feel the change in the air at their table and wondered whether Lance would notice before it took shape. He looked at the two oblivious others.
Elyan was a second year, with a rocky track-record behind him and a lot of untapped potential ahead of him. He was studying the same course as Lance and as part of his fourth-year course Lance had been approached about the opportunity to mentor. Being the soft-hearted mate they all knew and loved, he'd agreed. Upon meeting the handful of students who'd signed up for that extra guidance, Lance had picked out Elyan and taken the kid under his wing. He vehemently denied that it had anything to do with the fact that Elyan happened to be the trouble-making younger brother of a girl named Gwen, whom Lance was utterly besotted with. He argued that Elyan and he had connected the best and that he'd thought it as good a sign as any that he may be able to offer support.
Nobody believed it for a minute, even though they knew it was probably true. At least partly, anyway. Arthur watched Gwaine lean forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he tipped his chin onto one open palm in an entirely nonchalant manner that always made Arthur wary. It was like seeing grass shifting and knowing there was a snake under that pile of leaves just waiting to strike. Not that Arthur had ever experienced such a thing for real. He'd seen it on the Discovery Channel.
"So Elyan," Gwaine started, sounding half-distracted and semi-polite. His eyes danced. "How's your sister?"
Arthur turned back to highlighting the line he was on, safe in the knowledge that he had at least twenty minutes of bickering to do his work.