/ / / Meeting \ \ \

"Merlin," Freya said, letting herself into his rooms. "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping," Merlin mumbled, not opening his eyes.

"Are we going to go and see some competitions then?"

"I'm sleeping."

Freya poked him in the shoulder. "Come on, if we leave now we can go and see some shooting. I know how much you love to watch the Romanian shooter - Barnes."

Merlin groaned, he opened one eye and pulled his phone in front of his face – he had been asleep for a reasonable period of time but he could easily sleep some more…except, he did love to see Barnes shoot and he wanted to know if the Romanian was still making eyes at the slight American he'd been mooning over at London. He sighed and threw off the blankets.

"Breakfast."

"Breakfast," Freya agreed, painfully smug.

Merlin stumbled out of bed and pulled on a tracksuit – he'd showered this morning when he'd returned to his room and he couldn't smell himself, plus he knew he'd be back – needing to sleep again before long. The late races were annoying, he didn't like sleeping during the day like this but he had been practising the schedule for months – Ailsa hadn't quite known what to make of it but she'd been dealing with his weird schedules for years.

He followed Freya out of his rooms and towards the food area. The huge downside of his events being broken up so much was that he had days before he would swim again and as much as Gaius wanted him to keep training there were also much more important athletes who did have finals so he'd spend the next few days following the schedule they had already devised under the eagle eye of Alice. He walked into the large dining hall and headed straight for the food. He had his eye on the few sausages that were a couple of places in front of him – there were only three left but only two people before him. Then the blond standing in front of him took two and Merlin couldn't hold in the groan of disappointment. The other man turned around and looked at him.

"What's the problem?" the man asked.

"Nothing," Merlin said, shaking his head. "I was just hoping for one of those sausages.

The blond looked down at Merlin's piled high plate and frowned. "They'll have more out soon."

Merlin nodded. "I know, big night last night – never mind me."

"I know, I saw one of your medal swims."

Merlin smiled. "It's nice to be two-thirds of the way through already."

"Haven't started yet," the man said, Merlin felt like he knew him but he couldn't place the face. "Not until tomorrow."

"Ahh," Merlin said. "Nice to meet you, I'm Merlin."

The man smiled, almost like he was amused. "Arthur."

"Best of luck in your…"

"Rowing."

"Rowing heats."

"Thank you, Merlin, you're still not getting one of my sausages."

Merlin had to bite down on the desire to laugh. "You're a bit of a clotpole, aren't you?"

Arthur barked out a laugh like it caught him by surprise and then walked away.

Merlin turned around and walked back to Freya who was fairly vibrating where she was sitting. He put his tray down and looked over at her.

"Were you just having a moment with Arthur?" she hiss-whispered.

Merlin looked over at the other table where Arthur was sitting with a group of men, all looking back at him. He waved slowly at them and one of the men stood up, his hair magnificent even from this distance, and he strode across the eating area to slide into one of the seats around the table.

"Hello, Gwaine," Merlin said.

"Merlin."

"Oh…" Merlin said, his mind finally making the connection. "Prince Arthur."

"Yep," Freya said, slapping his arm. "Prince Arthur."

"I hear you have some time before your next race." Gwaine said.

"I hear you are rowing tomorrow," Merlin countered.

"I enjoy a good workout before I row," Gwaine said, winking at Freya after he smiled at Merlin.

"I know," Merlin said, picking up his fork and ignoring Gwaine. "Or have you forgotten you pulled this routine with me in London as well."

"It worked though."

"Yes," Merlin said, smiling fondly. "It's not going to work this time."

Gwaine shrugged and turned to Freya. "I came to talk to your friend anyway."

Freya laughed. "I'm a lesbian, thanks though."

Gwaine shrugged. "Oh well. Merlin, if you can make Arthur laugh like that again I will pay you money."

Merlin smiled, he looked over at Arthur who was staring at Gwaine's back, then his eyes flicking over to Merlin. "I'll think about it."

Personally, Merlin thought he would very much like to make Arthur smile again, and the upside of the Olympics was that he didn't need to worry about Ailsa finding out – what happened in the Village stayed in the Village.

"Come see us race tomorrow," Gwaine said.

"I'll think about it, I still do have a race to swim."

Gwaine shrugged. "You're totally going to win though."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

Gwaine winked at them both in turn and then walked away from their table.

"Was he just pimping out a crown prince to you?"

"No, he was…I never know what Gwaine doing when it's not trying to sleep with someone."

"Is there any time when he'd not trying to sleep with someone?"

"It does seem to be his default setting," Merlin said. "But I've only seen him at some competitions, and you know how they are."

Freya smiled happily. "Yeah, I love competitions."

Merlin didn't say much in response, he knew very few athletes who didn't like that aspect of the competitions. Their lives were often so isolated it with nice to spend time with other people who were in the same situation as they were. Merlin and Freya finished their breakfast and headed out for one of the buses that would take them to the shooting complex. This was actually the best part of being in an Olympics, after the possibility of winning a medal, he loved watching the very best in the world doing what they were passionate about. He made a habit of trying to watch as many of the other disciplines as possible. He was lucky to only ever compete on, at most, three days out of the two week competition so he got to see more than a lot of other athletes.

They walked into the shooting arena and Merlin immediately looked around for the American gymnast, Rogers, that he could remember being almost glued to the Romanian shooter's side in London. He spotted the blond, slight and not wearing the USA colours, more tattooed than Merlin remembered, almost hiding behind another person and wondered where he was supposed to be – probably training.

Merlin and Freya settled in to watch the shooting, one eye on the Romanian – the other on the American.

/ / /