Meeting

Merlin woke, hung-over, and as such he spent longer than was reasonable realising that it wasn't his hand trying to squash his nose off his face.

More importantly his own leg was twisted around the other persons hip and his left hand was lodged under warm bare flesh. Trapped. Well trapped unless he wanted to put in the effort of waking up Gwaine when the very idea of moving was making him feel queasy. It was with that logic that he battered the hand off his nose, and to safe guard it from further assault buried the thing into the mans shoulder.

Gwaine had a nice shoulder. Kind of.

"Urg, Gwaine, you reek." Merlin muttered, not really a complaint because he didn't care enough to move. But really Gwaine smelt of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol, none of which belonged on Merlins freshly laundered sheets. He supposed that it would be the first trade off to letting Gwaine fuck him but it balanced off into irrelevance when warm hands curled comfortably around his waist. Merlin hummed in appreciation as he came to understand that snuggling – a thing wholly unexpected – was now part of their arrangement.

A question, blissfully low, rumbled against Merlins nose and he sighed, obnoxiously pleased despite the hangover.

"Hmm?" Merlin prodded lightly, not really caring but a little interested, as long as he didn't have to think too hard.

The question was clearer the second time and "Who?" made Merlin frown into the curve of muscles below his nose while he tried to figure out what Gwaine was asking.

He gave up quickly, "What?" he grumbled right back, digging himself in against Gwaine despite that little spike of confusion that wanted to rush his body with unwanted adrenalin. It was ruining his attempt to fall back to sleep and ignore the pounding headache. He was going to hit Gwaine – when he was sick of snuggling – hung-over mornings should not include adrenalin.

"Who is Gwaine?" The rumble clarified in what Merlin could distinctly recognise as long suffering impatient. Except that didn't matter, because he was naked, naked in a bed, and that was not Gwaines hands snuggled around him, and yes even he could tell he'd had sex last night. But that was not Gwaines voice, and dear god but he was in bed with a stranger.

Merlin yanked back out of the strangers hold. He even saw blonde hair and a furrowed brow before his hangover made itself very known and he was back down in the embrace (which had never really let up) with his head buried in a strangers shoulder. He fought valiantly not to think about throwing up because that was a sure-fire way to make himself throw up. Instead he breathed deeply, letting the smells that had annoyed him moments before ground him in the situation and the reality of it.

"Later." Merlin threatened, willing himself back to sleep. "Later."

And as if that was some kind of cue his bed partner let him go, rolled out of bed muttered "I need water," and left Merlin completely alone and wondering where the hell Gwaine was because damn it, he'd been planning his first shag around the ass and… well that had clearly gone to hell.

He kind of expected to be left to his bed and the sound of his door closing behind the stranger. So Merlin was surprised when instead of being left to wallow in stinky sheets his one night stand plonked back down beside him, sculled the remainder of his pilfered water and rolled back into snuggles.

Well, not Gwaine, but Merlin liked the unexpected snuggles so he settled in to deal with it all later. Much later. Hopefully when he could think past warmth and comfort and strong arms. Though why he would want to do that was anyone's business.

Breakfast, when Merlin finally stumbled out of bed, wasn't as painful as he'd expected. He was fairly sure one night stands were meant to be awkward in the morning and he certainly felt awkward, but with a few quick easy smiles the stranger was making Merlin feel something other than that entirely. The fact that the finely sculpted male specimen who had followed Merlin home last night hadn't bothered more than a pair of low slung, unbuttoned, trousers (Merlin had dressed the moment he'd actually seen his competition) made it a visually stimulating meal. Merlin had no complaints as he munched down on a bowl of soggy cereal and managed covert glances. He hadn't yet decided if he had the right to ogle outright.

Not-Gwaine ruined it, though, by talking; "So, you're names Mervin?" Not-Gwaine was sipping at a mug of tea he'd managed to put together – Merlin had no idea how because he didn't think he even had tea in the apartment – and had already finished off one piece of dry toast. Actually toast seemed more palatable than milky cereal with his hangover, but Merlin was committed to the path now, no matter what his stomach had to say about it.

"Merlin." He corrected with a wave of his spoon. Self-consciously he thought of stupid Harry Potter and his wand and scowled at the utensil as he shoved it back into the bowl to hide under a puddle of milk.

"Your parents were hippies, weren't they?" The smile was either mocking or teasing. Merlin felt like being amiable, he took it as teasing… for now. It was a close thing, he did not take comments about his parents well.

"It's the only name that stuck, I'm told." His mother hadn't told him that quirk of his life until he was almost sixteen and had been in his first real crisis of insanity. His birth certificate actually read Andrew Benton for the first three years, but Hunith had changed it when it became evident that her child could not, or would not, respond to any name but the antiquated- Merlin. It had taken her seven months of calling him anything she could think of until one day a visitor had mentioned the birds and Merlin had bubbled and giggled and responded to a word, the way a child should, for the first time in his entire life.

Hunith had though he was damaged, mentally handicapped, until that day and she'd taken to the name like a sponge to water, and he had replied and responded and been everything a seven month old child was supposed to be. So it stuck, and she'd legally changed his name.

Until she'd told him that story he'd always wondered why she'd burdened him with such a strange name. Later things had become clearer – but that was later.

"Suits you." The man smirked affably and Merlin realised he was trying. Suddenly he felt like a tit. If he'd woke up in a strangers bed, in a strangers house, he would have panicked.

"I'm sorry." He tried. "I was expecting someone else-" Which he realised, even as he said it, did not help the matter.

"Yes, Gwaine." Anger in a previously calm voice was very obvious. "Your boyfriend?"

"No!" Merlin felt worse again – he hadn't considered how this would look. "No, we aren't – but we'd been going to – or – I mean-" He stopped himself before the words tangled much further together. This was awkward. He took a breath and tried again, hoping his brain would give him something useful to work with. "Gwaine'll sleep with anything-one- anyone on two legs. So I sort of just assumed…"

"Fine with that, were you?" That wasn't anger, but Merlin couldn't pick it, his heart rate was too fast and he was panicking with no good reason. It took him some moments to realise it was censure he was being addressed with, and he bristled in defence. Who the hell was this man to tell him how to live?

"He's nice, he's fit, and… who are you to judge?" He demanded. "At least I know him – Jesus I don't know anything about you. You could be a crazed killer- some sort of street hobo who- you could be some spy- trying to kill me – or one of those-" His hand movements were becoming more exaggerated with each idea and he wasn't sure what he was building up to, but it was bound to be good.

"Arthur." Stranger interrupted smoothly.

Everything stilled, and Merlins mind buckled under the sudden stop. He stared with just a little too much comprehension and a brain working too hard to put it all together and make it make a sense that didn't horrify him. "What?"

"My name – you haven't actually asked-"

Panic flooded him, panic and an overwhelming sense of dread. Panic was the winner; "Jesus Christ. Get out!" Fuck his life. Fuck it and fuck destiny and fuck the stupid name that had cursed his every breath since the day he was fourteen.

"What?" Arthur demanded, tea halfway to his mouth and staring in shock across at Merlin.

"Get out of my house!" Merlin was moving, quick decisive motions, he was pushing the stunned man out of the kitchen (mug of tea still in hand) and towards the front door. Merlin was not going to deal with this. He was not going to acknowledge this, it was going to fade and become nothing and the only way to do that was to get this man out of his house now.

He'd gotten Arthur to the little hall by the front door when 'Arthur' (Fifty-three) dug his feet in and stopped, tea slopping over fingers, but not hot enough to burn (apparently breakfast ogling had been going longer than Merlin had realised). Even though he was taller than the stranger Merlin knew he couldn't budge the stubborn mule. A cat against a horse, a clawless cat, well he had claws… but they were for very desperate situations and also rather useless when trying to be discrete. Or just generally useless unless someone was subject to being scared easily by strong gusts of winds and twigs in their hair.

"Why aren't you leaving?" Merlin demanded stubbornly. Arthur folded his arms, stubborn as an ox. If 'fucking Merlin' hadn't taken him straight off The List the stubborn assholery would have.

"I'm half dressed." The man decreed, as if Merlin cared about anything so trivial.

"Out." Merlin hissed desperately. "Out. I'm not having- Get out of my house, Arthur." He spat the name.

Arthur sounded bemused, Merlin ignored the other emotion in the mans voice when Arthur spoke next. "You're really going to kick me out because my names Arthur?"

"You have no idea! Now get out before…" Merlin stopped, head tilted to listen.

"Before?" Arthur prompted.

"Phone." Merlin decided that it was probably the easier of his problems to deal with, and hunted it out (it was in his back pocket still, which was surprising). Stupidly, hung-over and distracted he answered without checking the number.

Will's, "You okay?" gave him pause, he rallied as quickly as he could, hiding behind a mocking tone.

"Yes why?"

"Gwaine said you took off with some bloke last night.-"

"It's fine." He tried to stop what he knew was coming, but it was like watching a train wreck in slow, heart palpitating, motion.

"-You met the guys eyes and just gravitated to him-" Sing songed.

Oh god. This was horrible. "It's fine Will." He had done his best not to think about the previous night, he was not going to start now.

"He couldn't stop snickering. Waxing poetic." Will teased.

"Not now, Will." Merlin snapped. Which was the wrong thing to do, but try telling his brain that with Arthur Fifty Three staring him down like some evil monster. Besides, he had a lifetime to deal with the longer fallout of this whole thing – but for now he needed to deal with the man sized problem in his hallway and Will on the phone was not helping.

"You okay?" Will checked, a tint of caution overtaking his teasing.

Merlin heard the worry, real worry, and knew his friend needed reassurance, even if he didn't want to give it. "Look, I just- He's still here, and he-"

"You took him home?!" Which was well and truly loud enough for Arthur to hear as well. Merlin wondered exactly how telling Will's disbelief was but pushed that concern aside. He needed to deal with this problem first.

"Later." He snapped.

"Fine. But Gwaines on his way over to see if you've been ravished. Apparently he's still up for it if you haven't been." And Will hung up, much less helpfully than Merlin would have liked.

"Jesus." He needed to expand his curses if his day kept on like this.

"What now?" Arthur's arms were just as crossed as before, and his expression was a lot less angry then Merlin thought it should be.

"Gwaines on his way over." Merlin flipped the phone closed and stared at it.

"Your not-boyfriend?" The drawl raised Merlins eyes back to the man before him and he did a double take. There should not be a six pack standing in his hallway.

"Dear god, why aren't you dressed?"

"There's a lunatic between me and my clothes." Again with the drawl.

"Fine fine. Clothes." Merlin ushered (and Arthur allowed himself to be ushered) back into the bedroom. The tea mug pushed into Merlins hands while Arthur began a quest for lost clothes. Merlin was a little surprised that the clothes were so far afield, but then again, they had been in a hurry. Merlin repressed that image as quickly as he could, he was not dealing with last night until the morning after had been dealt with. Angry he shoved the tea onto his bedside table and stared haplessly at the room while the stranger went about finding his belongings.

"Find my phone." Arthur instructed imperiously, and Merlin only did it because his other option was to stare at the man until he'd reclothed and he had to go back to pushing the man out of his house. "What's so great about 'Gwaine'?" Arthur asked as he shook out the bedding. "Sure he's not your boyfriend?" There was a mulish tilt to that blonde head as it glanced across at Merlin.

Merlin checked under his bed for anything foreign, and was met with the usual clumps of dust. Will was never going to let him live this down. The thought made Merlin change gears, he bolted upright, hit his head on the bedframe and then pushed passed the pain to stare in wide eyed horror at Arthur. "You didn't introduce yourself last night, right? I didn't know your name, right?" Because it was imperative when he next saw Will that this be clear.

Arthur looked suspicious and angry and like he was putting something together. Merlin wasn't sure how he knew what that looked like, but it was clear. "What's wrong with my name?" He stretched the question slowly.

A beat of hesitation, "Nothing. Of course. Why would there be anything wrong with Arthur? It's a perfectly serviceable name!"

Lips twitched, but the expression remained stern, "Serviceable?"

Merlin looked the man over and his mind stalled on 'serviceable' all over again. The thought was so uninvited he felt anger rear itself up again. "Can't you dress faster?" The pile of clothes Arthur had accumulated were on the bed, even a pair of shoes lined up on the floor.

"I only dress at one speed, Merlin."

Like that was a thing. "You could dress faster."

Without warning the low slung jeans were unbuttoned, unzipped and shucked off. It was a impressively smooth action and then Arthur was naked again. Naked. Again.

"That's not dressing!" Apparently Arthur had been walking around without underwear on, which Merlin would rather have not known because it did odd things to his insides and was making him want to revisit the whole breakfast scene in his head, which was hardly helping.

"I just found my underwear." Which Arthur promptly held up and showed to Merlin, but did not, Merlin noted, put them on. Apparently naked was perfectly acceptable to be right now. When Merlin did not respond, the corner of Arthurs mouth twitched down a little, his expression smoothing out. "Do I at least get a shower?"

"You smell fine." Merlin grumped.

"You told me I reek."

Jesus Merlin couldn't deal with this. Gwaine was going to be here any minute now, he didn't live that far away. "Just get out of my house!" Immediately Merlin regrated everything, because the man who had been caught between a smile and a scowl through their entire encounter disappeared (not literally, which Merlin was so so so very thankful for, because that would have been a can of worms he wasn't ready to deal with). Instead of teasing and flirting, (God, that had been flirting hadn't it?) Merlin was looking into stone and he knew he crossed that line and fallen face first into insulting.

"You invited me here." Angry Arthur was low voiced and rumbly, it did nothing to Merlins insides because he was too busy piling more panic on top of his other panic. "You bought me home."

"And now he's telling you to leave."

Merlin jumped, hand popping up to press against his chest as he stared at the newcomer. Arthur didn't even flinch. "Gwaine." Merlin wheezed out past his surprise. Arthur glanced then, barely a seconds effort and then turned his attention completely back to Merlin.

"Your not-boyfriend has keys to your house, Merlin." Still angry, apparently, and even though he was naked his arms where folded across his chest. The briefs, it seemed had made it to the pile of clothes and being promptly forgotten about. Arthur Fifty Three had no problems with nudity.

"Gwaine isn't supposed to have the keys." Merlin turns his glare on the man lounging in his bedroom doorway. He had thought he'd at least have a door to protect him from the incoming harassment.

"Well he does." Arthur snapped.

Merlin wanted to mock but couldn't get his brain to function, instead he continued to frown at Gwaine. "Clearly."

"Will gave them to me." Gwaine held the keys out on his finger, not offering, just showing. Merlin repressed the urge to lunge and snatch them back. He didn't actually care that Gwaine had his keys. Gwaine was old, Gwaine was destiny, and he would not harm Merlin – ever. The thought -the knowledge- it stirred Merlins insides and made him feel warm and comfortable and secure. His panic ebbed backwards and in Gwaines company he felt solid again.

"Will?"

Well there went his solid calm. "I did not cheat! I'm allowed to have friends!" Merlin cried, because he was sick of feeling like he was hurting this mans feelings. He didn't even know this man! He didn't want to know him. He was going to get him out of the house the second he could get clothes on him. He was…

Merlin; solid, calm, and aware, stopped thinking because thinking had just become the single most difficult thing he had ever done.

"Good to know." Gwaine teased from the door frame, leaning on his side and looking as comfortable as anything, and Merlin looked to him hopelessly, the world falling out from below his feet. Gwaine tensed, straightened and flicked an accusing glance at Arthur before stepping closer to Merlin. "You okay?"

Merlin couldn't respond, his brain stuck and looping. He wanted to comment, to draw those lines of worry off Gwaines face but the last of Merlins ignorance had dropped away and the knowledge that panic had kept at bay was solid and there and so very real and he could not fight it.

He wanted his panic back, desperately, which was just as well, because it tumbled back over the top of everything else and pushed down on it all, condensing it all into a single bright wall of 'oh shit' and Merlin barely had time to really 'know' amidst the torrent of emotional upheaval. Because Gwaine was old – as old as legend and he twisted into Merlins insides with history and familiarity and kin – and so too did Arthur.

Arthur Fifty Three, the Once and Future King.

Denying it to the ends of the earth would never change the next few moments, because for all Merlin didn't like to think of himself as fragile or girly, he fainted.

Notes: Decided to post it here as well anyway.