Title: The Meaning of Courage 1/?
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in the fic (which is unfortunate for me, but fortunate for the characters) they all belong to the Mighty BBC. No money is being made here.
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: In which Arthur tries, and fails, to get into Merlin's pants (twice), Leon doesn't answer his phone, Morgana cries a lot, and Merlin breaks some pencils.

So, another series. I know. *Fail* This has been hanging around since just before New Year, and I've finally finished it. It's probably the longest chapter I have EVER written. (11 pages on a word document! o:) I won't be able to upload much in the next few weeks, I'm currently doing my GCSEs, and I don't have much free time. ):


Arthur hadn't planned to be stuck in his sister's apartment at 7AM; listening to her ramble on about how her boyfriend hated the fact she was pregnant. In fact, Arthur hadn't planned to be doing a whole lot of anything at 7AM.

"Morgana, for the last time, Leon does not hate you!" Rubbing at his eyes wearily, Arthur perched on the arm of the sofa. "He isn't avoiding you; he isn't pissed off because of the lack of sleep he's getting; and he definitely isn't ignoring your calls!" He sighed heavily. Leon had only been gone 20 minutes, and Arthur feared how many times Morgana had actually tried to call him. "Don't you think you're over-reacting just a little bit?"

"I'm pregnant," Morgana hissed, throwing a cushion at his head. "And you're my brother." She continued, as if it explained everything. Arthur stared at her.

"Is there anything I can actually help you with, Morgana, or can I go back to bed?" As soon as he had said it, he wished he hadn't. Mortified, Arthur watched as Morgana's eyes welled up with tears, and before he could leap across the sofa and attempt to comfort her, she had begun to sob hysterically.

"I hate being pregnant!" She wailed, throwing her arms around Arthur's neck and burrowing her nose into his shoulder. Attempting to rub comforting circles on her back, Arthur rolled his eyes. Morgana had been pregnant for over six months now, and Arthur had only just begun to get used to her newfound ability to successfully switch moods within the blink of an eye.

As Morgana's sobs began to quieten down to pathetic sniffles, Arthur let himself relax, his shoulders sagging in relief.

"Ugh, Arthur, you're disgusting." Morgana pulled away, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"What? What have I done now?" He scowled at her.

"Your shirt reeks of cigarette smoke, beer, and sweat. Did you wear it last night when you went out?" She shuddered dramatically. "Ugh, do you have no concept of hygiene?"

"Hey! You rang me up at half six, screeching about Leon and how you really needed me there, so I grabbed the closest clothes I could find. They just happened to be the ones I wore last night! I didn't think about looking good, Morgana, you said it was an emergency."

"It is an emergency!" Her voice shook, threatening tears again. "Leon hates me!"

With a groan of frustration, Arthur grabbed the box of tissues off the coffee table, and began the difficult task of calming her down again. Arthur doubted he would be going back to bed anytime soon.

As it happened, Arthur managed to scrounge an extra hour in bed before his classes started. Gwen popping around to bring Morgana back the CDs she had borrowed had saved him - thankfully. As soon as she'd seen the state her friend was in, she had ushered Arthur out of the flat, claiming his presence was hindering her ability to get Morgana to tell her exactly what was wrong.

It can't have been that bad, Arthur decided, if the way Morgana had cut her sentence short and shouted at Arthur to shower and wash his clothes was anything to go by.

Towel-drying his hair, Arthur pottered about his dorm, occasionally tidying away plates or cups. He kicked at the dirty washing spread over his floor, trying to sort it into whites and colours without actually using his hands. He soon found that feet were not exactly great laundry-sorters, gave up, and tossed the damp towel onto the whites pile to deal with later.

After making a mental note to call Morgana later that day, he grabbed his keys and jacket, and left his dorm. Attempting to lock the door and pull on his jacket at the same time without looking a complete fool, Arthur began on his way, hoping to be abele to pick up some coffee before his first lecture began.

The shrill ringing of his phone made him jump and he fumbled in his pocket for it.

"Hello?"

"Arthur! Brilliant. I hoped to catch you before your lecture!"

"Leon! Just the man I wanted to speak to."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Morgana called me over this morning – she was really upset." His voice hardened, his brotherly protectiveness slowly kicking in. Leon was a good man, Arthur knew that, and he also knew that Morgana was probably just making a fuss over nothing, but seeing his sister in such a state over something that her boyfriend supposedly had done had pushed several of his buttons, and forced the typical brotherly response to surface.

"That was what I was calling you about actually…" A heavy sigh crackled through the phone, and Arthur could almost see Leon running a hand through his hair – a habit he had when he was worried or nervous.

"Oh? What exactly happened this morning?" Arthur smiled and waved at a student he recognized, gesturing to his phone when they moved to approach him.

"Well," Leon hesitated. "We didn't get a lot of sleep last night." Arthur grimaced, making a disgusted noise. "Not in that way! God, Arthur, she's pregnant. What kind of a man do you think I am? The baby was kicking all night, honestly, I swear it's bloody nocturnal, so I stayed up with her. This morning, I got up late, so had to rush, and she wanted to talk about me not getting enough sleep because of her, and I asked to do it later."

Arthur frowned, extremely confused. "So why was she crying?"

"She was crying?" Leon sounded horrified. "God, I'm an awful boyfriend…" He trailed off, sighing heavily.

"Leon."

"Yes. Sorry. Well, I was in a hurry, and so it sounded a lot more pissed that it was meant to. And I just came out a meeting find five missed calls from her… God, she probably thinks I'm avoiding her…"

"She does, actually."

"What?"

"Oh, sorry. That's not helping. Look – Just call her and explain yourself. Gwen's with her, so you may have to do some serious groveling before she'll let you even talk to Morgana…"

"Alright. Thanks, Arthur. I owe you one."

Checking the clock on his phone, Arthur frowned. He was later than he thought he was. Maybe if he ran, he could avoid the usual queues ad get a cup of coffee from the stand before his first lecture. After saying a brief goodbye to Leon, he wet to slip his phone into his satchel and grab his wallet, only to realize that he'd left it and it's entire contents back in his dorm.

Cursing profusely, Arthur spun on his heels, heading back to his room at a jog. Coffee would have to wait, it would seem.

Merlin wasn't late. Well, not as late as he normally was. He'd managed to drag himself out of bed early enough to be able to take a rushed shower and make himself a mug of coffee (without milk, unfortunately, as he'd forgotten to get some again), but not early enough it would seem, to actually iron some clothes. It had been one of those times when Merlin was extremely grateful to be able to do magic.

He'd ended up having to wear an un-ironed band t-shirt, however, as he'd forgotten completely about the iron, thus forgetting about the spell, and he'd only remembered when it was too late and an hole had been burnt through the fabric. After several minutes of cursing his own stupidity, he'd only had time to gulp down his scalding coffee, grab his shoes (but not actually put them on), and scoop up his bag and mountain of Art supplies before running out the door and trying very hard to get to his class when he was supposed to.

No one was particularly surprised to see Merlin hurrying down the corridor wearing no shoes whilst juggling far too many sketchbooks, and so they very quickly crossed to the other side of the hall, shaking their heads at his strange ability to be late all the time.

Arthur really should have remembered that his door was in the path of the bumbling Art student he saw practically every morning, but because of his own lateness, all thoughts of charging idiots had been completely forgotten.

So he could only really blame himself that when he stepped back to open his door, he put himself directly in the way of Merlin as he ran down the corridor. He barely had a chance to push open his door before he was bowled over and had a tin of pencils thrown in his face.

"Watch where you're going!" He cried, trying to get back to his feet with what little dignity he had left.

"Watch where you're going!" Merlin hissed, attempting to scoop up all the sheets of paper that had been thrown out of a folder. He snatched the box of pencils off of Arthur, opening it to inspect the damage. He felt his stomach drop when he found that only the dark green was still in one piece. "My pencils!" He wailed, frantically trying to put one back together by jabbing the ends together.

"My face!" Arthur corrected, gesturing wildly at the small cut jut under his eye. "You better have a bloody good reason why I shouldn't hurt you, you idiot!"

"Oh, shut up, you prat!" Merlin scowled at him through his hair. "I expect you to replace these, by the way!" His scowl deepened when Arthur ducked the broken pencil Merlin had thrown at his head.

Arthur snorted. "You expect me to replace them?" He stood up quickly, straightening out his jacket. "You ran into me! Replace them yourself – they're only pencils." Rolling his eyes, he strode into his dorm to grab his bag. As he turned to leave he found himself very suddenly face to face with a furious Merlin.

"Only pencils? These are not just any pencils!" Arthur took an instinctive step back, only to have Merlin take a step forward to meet him. "These are Derwent Studio Pencils! Over £100 worth of Derwent Studio Pencils! And your face broke them!" He waved a handful of snapped pencils in Arthur's face, causing him to take another desperate step away from the sharp points. To his dismay, Merlin followed. "Do you have anything to say to convince me not to run you through?"

Failing to think of anything witty to say, Arthur did the next thing that came to mind that he hoped would get him out of an agonizing death by pencil. He took Merlin's face in his hands, and kissed him.

For a moment, Arthur found himself quite enjoying it (and Merlin too, if the way he momentarily seemed to melt was anything to go by), which came as quite a shock, until Merlin pulled away and connected his fist with his face.

"You arrogant, self-centred, egotistical… prat!" Merlin cried, shoving Arthur away roughly.

"What was that for?" Arthur touched his nose gingerly, wincing at the pain. Merlin certainly didn't look very strong, but he could sure pack a punch.

"What was it for? Ugh… just… no!" Spinning on his heel, Merlin stomped out of Arthur's room, pausing only for a moment to scoop up his Art supplies and shoes before he hurried off to class.

Frowning, Arthur went to pick up his bag, only to find Merlin's dark green pencil, the only one, he assumed, that was still intact. Twirling it thoughtfully between his fingers, Arthur couldn't help but smile. As he left his dorm, he slipped it into his back pocket, forgetting all about his need for coffee. Even if he had to make up an excuse about returning it, Arthur found himself inexplicably determined to see Merlin again.

All plans of returning the pencil to appease Merlin were ruined when Arthur was stupid enough to forget it was in his pocket and sat down heavily during his lecture. He'd frozen when he'd heard something snap, and instantly began patting himself down and testing his joints to make sure he hadn't suddenly and painlessly broken anything. As he'd got t his hips, his fingers brushed against something on his chair, and he'd grabbed it quickly before it could roll onto the floor. Staring at it for a moment in disbelief, he'd dug in his back pocket for the other half, only to find it snapped beyond repair, the lead crumbling. Without thinking he'd cried "Shit!" in despair, causing his lecturer to pause in writing out an equation ad glare at him. After apologizing, he'd let his head fall onto his desk heavily – calling himself a complete tit just didn't seem to cover it,

It was with a heavy heart that he'd approached Merlin's dorm, frowning a little when he found the door slightly ajar, music filtering through the gap. Knocking on the door gently he stood in the doorway nervously.

Merlin turned quickly, his look of curiosity turning to anger almost instantly. "You!" He growled, pointing a paintbrush at him. Seeing a bit of the green paint drip onto the carpet, Arthur attempted to leave as quickly as he had arrived.

"Yes, me. But you know, never mind. I'll just um…"

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me why you're here!"

"Well…" Arthur took a deep breath. "I found one of your pencils, and I was going to give it back to you intact, but I kind of sat on it."

"You what?" Arthur quickly avoided a blob of paint flung in his direction when Merlin shook his paintbrush in frustration.

"I sat on it. Not on purpose, obviously. I put it in my back pocket, and sat down in my Maths lecture and-"

"Stop talking." Merlin raised a hand to silence him, his expression unreadable.

"Okay." Feeling sheepish, Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets, waiting for Merlin to react.

"Shut up!"

"I have!" Arthur cried in his defense, instantly regretting it when Merlin lunged at him with the paintbrush so suddenly Arthur had no time to react.

Looking smug, Merlin dunked his paintbrush in a mug of water, wiping his hands on his jeans causally, leaving Arthur to splutter in shock. In a spur of the moment urge, Merlin had simply drawn a thick green line of paint down Arthur's face and the front of his shirt.

"My shirt!" Arthur turned to Merlin, his face furious. "This was expensive! And you've ruined it!" He finished his sentence in an angry whisper, shoulders tense with frustration.

"Just replace it – it's only a shirt."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny Merlin!" Looking down at himself, Arthur made a small disgusted sound, before pulling it over his head, and using it to wipe the paint off of his face. His foul mood was slightly appeased when he heard Merlin choke on his coffee, flushing red with embarrassment.

"Problem, Merlin?"

"You're such a prat!"

"So you keep saying."

"Because it's true!"

"Idiot."

"Dick."

"Hey! That was uncalled for." Arthur frowned, twisting his ruined shirt in his hands.

"Not, it was very much called for. Now get out." After forcefully pushing Arthur out of his dorm, Merlin closed the door firmly. All thoughts of his last ruined pencil forgotten, he leant against the door, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion. Arthur was quite something.

"You know, Lance, I just… Argh!" Furiously, Merlin threw a carrot into its display crate. He'd spent the past few hours after his 'conversation' with Arthur attempting to finish some of his portfolio for University, but had spent most of the time running his hands angrily through his hair and kicking pieces of furniture in frustration. Now that he was at work, away from all reminders of Arthur, his mood had not improved at all. "He just went and kissed me out of the blue, and now I can't get the idiot out of my head," He emphasized his point by jabbing a carrot at his temple, narrowly avoiding impaling himself on it. "And it's driving me insane!"

Leaning casually on a mop, Lancelot sighed. "Was it any good?"

"What?"

"The kiss. Was he any good?"

"That's completely beside the point!" Merlin cried, throwing a carrot at Lance. It missed my miles, landing instead at an unamused customer's feet.

"Clearly it is very much not beside the point, Merlin." Lancelot looked up towards the nearest loudspeaker, completely ignoring it's crackly blare of 'Lancelot to aisle 5 – clean up required'.

"How?" Giving up on putting the carrots away one by one, Merlin simply turned the box upside down, letting the vegetables fall into the crate. "How is it not beside the point? Is that even a phrase?" Picking up a stray carrot that had missed the crate, he dumped it with the others.

"Whether it is a phrase or not doesn't matter. The point is, if you can't stop thinking about him, maybe you've got a bit of a crush on him."

"I do not!" Merlin lowered his voice quickly as his sudden outcry made several nosy customers look over in curiosity. "I am not a schoolgirl, Lance – I do not have a crush on Arthur."

"Really? So you won't mind if I ask him out then?"

"Don't even think about it!" Merlin's sudden aggressive tone shocked even him, leaving Lancelot to burst into fits of laughter.

'Lancelot – Get down to aisle 5. NOW.' The screech of the loudspeaker cut their conversation short. "Alright, alright. I'm coming…" he grumbled. Sighing heavily, Lancelot began to trudge off to Aisle 5, bucket and mop in tow.

Merlin hurried after him, dragging his food cage with him, abandoning the empty carrot box in the middle of the aisle. "That was cruel."

"It proved my point though."

"Don't make me hit you, Lance."

"You never would."

"Try me." After a moment of walking in silence, Merlin frowned. "You were joking, right?" At Lancelot's quizzical expression, he continued, surprised as to how nervous he felt. "About asking him out? Right?" Lancelot merely laughed. "I thought you liked that Gwen girl?"

"What can I say?" Arthur's manly ruggedness and muscles are irresistible." Merlin stared at him blankly, pulse racing. "I'm joking, Merlin! No need to pull that face. He's all yours, mate."

"I don't want him." Merlin persisted, annoyed at how unconvincing he sounded. He'd only met Arthur today, and he'd been a complete prat from the start, but Merlin couldn't deny the strange fluttery feeling he had whenever he thought of him. It was annoyingly embarrassing.

"Of course you don't. Now, on the subject of Gwen… she invited me to her friend's party… Morgana or something. I think she mentioned engagement, or something along those lines. Anyway, she told me to invite someone so that she won't be the only person there that I know, and I figured that because you have no life, you should come."

"I have a life!"

"No you don't." Lancelot waved his words of quickly. "Are you coming, or what? I'll give you a lift there."

"Fine. So long as you don't expect me to drive back. I am not driving you home when you're pissed, not after last time." Merlin shuddered at the memory: Lancelot and some girl he'd picked up were all over each other in the back of Merlin's car, which was disgusting enough while he was driving, but it was the final straw when said drunken girl threw up all over the upholstery. He'd had to replace the entire back seat when the stains wouldn't come out.

"Alright, alright. Maybe you'll get lucky," Lancelot winked and nudged Merlin with his elbow. "And you won't need a lift home at all."

"Shut up, Lance."

"Okay, Mr. Grumpy Pants." Lancelot tutted, faking hurt.

"No, seriously. Shut up and do your job before I hit you."

"Yes, sir!"

"Lance!"

"I don't even know why you're having this party, Morgana."

Morgana poked her head around her bathroom door, toothbrush in hand. "Because I'm engaged? Hence why it's an engagement party."

"For starters, Leon only proposed to you this afternoon – you didn't exactly beat about the bush organizing this, and besides, you're pregnant."

She frowned. "And?"

"Well, you're not gonna drink. And Leon won't because you won't. And Gwen just doesn't drink anyway. So it'll just be me by myself." Fiddling with his hair in the mirror, Arthur sighed. He'd turned up at Morgana's house an hour early to help her set up, only to have her send him home to change into something more 'classy'. She seemed pleased with his second selection, telling him that she was quite surprised at his sudden fashion sense.

"Stop pulling at your jacket, Arthur." She called from in the bathroom. "And, there are other things you can do at a party, Arthur, other than get completely smashed out of your head. You know, like socializing? And actually talking to people?"

Elbowing him out the way of her bedroom mirror, she smiled. "You do scrub up nicely, Arthur." She took in his appearance – plain red t-shirt, dark jeans and a black suit jacket. "I am almost proud to call you my brother."

"Only almost?"

"Yes, only almost." Adjusting his collar for him, she smiled innocently. "Mainly because you need a haircut desperately, and you didn't shave."

"Yes I did!"

"What's this then?" Tilting his chin to side, she pointed to a small patch of stubble by his ear. She laughed lightly when he desperately turned his head to the side, fingers scrabbling at the side of his face.

"No way did I miss that!"

"I'm guessing that bit was hiding when you shaved?" She poked her tongue out at his scowling reflection, checking over her immaculate hair. "Just smooth your hair over it. No, not like that, you'll look like an imbecile, like this. Now leave it alone." She shook her head, earrings jingling faintly. "Go on through and help Leon would you? Yes, off you go."

"This is slave labour – I'm supposed to be a guest!" He protested, as she forcefully ushered him out of her bedroom.

"I need to get dressed, and besides, I'm not supposed to do anything too strenuous. Pregnant trumps guest every time, Arthur."

"Sometimes I really hate you."

"Of course you do. How could you hate this?" She gestured vaguely at herself.

"Surprisingly easily."

"I'm hurt, dear brother." She said, not an ounce of hurt in her voice, before shutting the door in his face.

"I'm sure you'll live." He called through the door, huffing loudly. When she didn't reply, he stomped off to give Leon a hand, murmuring furiously under his breath. Why he agreed to this, he had no idea.

It was times like this that Merlin really hated parties (and Lance, but that was a rant for another time). Normally, he loved to have a laugh, a bit of a drink (Only a bit – his mother had drilled into him the risks of excessive drinking since before he could remember), and just let his hair down. Figuratively, of course. But now, sat on Morgana's couch, he really wished he hadn't come.

It wasn't the fact that the party was bad – the party itself was brilliant. The perfect laid-back atmosphere for Merlin to enjoy himself. It was the fact that Arthur was there. Well, he didn't have a problem with Arthur being there at the party as such. No, he had a problem with Arthur being right there, sat close to him, his arm flung around Merlin's shoulders. As Arthur attempted to nuzzle his very drunk face into his neck, Merlin made a disgusted noise and rolled his eyes.

"Arthur." The blonde ignored him, continuing to nuzzle. "Arthur." At the tone of Merlin's voice, Arthur looked up, his expression confused.

"What?"

"The nuzzling. Stop it. Now."

"Why?" Arthur leant close to Merlin, in an attempt to kiss his cheek. He frowned as he found Merlin's hand very suddenly in the way.

"Because you're drunk. Very drunk, in fact, and I do not approve."

"Don't be such a prude." Arthur batted Merlin's hand away, kissing him softly on the cheek. "Come on – I'm a catch." When Merlin turned to him furiously, mouth open ready to say something undoubtedly witty and clever, Arthur took his chance and kissed him on the lips.

As much as Merlin's mind was frantically reminding him of the happenings of that afternoon, and the fact that Arthur was very, very drunk and had no idea what he was doing, Merlin could feel his resolve slowly ebbing away and with it, his sanity. Ah, sod it, He thought, kissing Arthur back carefully. He was still half-expecting him to pull away and hit him, or something.

Taking Merlin's co-operation as a good sign, Arthur ran his hand through Merlin's hand, tangling his fingers in it. When Merlin appeared to melt a little against him and grip onto Arthur's jacket, he smirked. Even in his drunken haze he could tell how much Merlin was enjoying it – and how much he was, for that matter.

It may have been because he was completely smashed out of his mind, or because he was currently making out with the guy he'd been trying not to think about all day (and failing) that Arthur didn't notice Morgana creep toward them (well, as much as you can creep when you're pregnant), pull out her phone, and snap a picture of them entwined together, and scurry away, giggling like a loon.

In future years, when he looked back on it, Arthur realized that for his own benefit and for the sake of his dignity, he really should have noticed.

It wasn't until Arthur was desperately trying to wrestle his shirt over his head, that Merlin realized this really was not a good idea. And as much as his body was resisting and demanding to be allowed to help Arthur with his shirt, Merlin came to the conclusion that was in his sanity's best interests to pull away now and get the hell out of there.

So he did.

Leaving a bewildered, but otherwise unfazed, Arthur lying on the couch, Merlin grabbed his coat, straightened his shirt and hurriedly left. On his way out, he mumbled something to Lance about being tired and having coursework to do and that he'd need to get a taxi home.

In truth, Merlin was merely in autopilot. His mind was too busy cursing every little bit of himself for being so stupid to really notice what he was doing. He just really, really hoped Arthur wouldn't remember anything.