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It had been an excellent idea while inebriated and surrounded by friends.
They had wanted to move in together. All four of them. Well, five of them if you count Gwaine. Sitting around a small table in a crowded pub, Merlin had spoken over Arthur and Gwaine–who were arguing over whose pint was indeed superior–to blurt out: "We should get a place!"
All heads had swiveled to him, suddenly quiet and listening. Lancelot lowered Gwen's hand from where he had been kissing it, nuzzled close together as they were, and Arthur and Gwaine stopped squabbling.
"What?" Arthur asked.
"Us," Merlin roved his finger around the table encompassing all of them. "We should get a place! It'd be so fun! We could just find a big house somewhere near campus and all live together." He'd looked around at them all individually, willing them to see the immense levels of awesome in his idea.
"Merlin, we all pretty much live together already," Arthur said diplomatically and not without amused exasperation.
So Merlin was given to harebrained schemes, particularly while intoxicated. He couldn't help it that his genius was choosy about when it revealed itself. And this was definitely genius.
Merlin was already shaking his head at Arthur's interjection, priming for his next attack. Lance leaned back, and draped his arm over the back of the bench behind Gwen's head, smiling. Watching Merlin steamroller Arthur into getting his way was one of everyone's favorite pastimes. Merlin's included.
"No, see... it would be better! We could, you know, meet in the living room for movie night–"
"You mean like we do in the commons area. Every Thursday." It wasn't a question.
Merlin was not going to be stopped. "But other people can come in the commons area. This would just be for us." He'd lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper on the word 'us' and Gwen ducked her head to smile at the table.
"And we could throw parties!" He'd looked at Gwaine as he said this. And okay, that was a cheap win, but Arthur was going to be a hard sell, so he mine as well go for the easy targets first.
"And I'm in," Gwaine said with a raise of his pint and an incline of his head.
Merlin beamed at Arthur. Clearly this was a point for Merlin–at least in Merlin's head.
"And how would we afford this great place you speak of?"
Merlin was ready for this one. "We'd split it!"
"Merlin."
"What?" Merlin pulled his you-just-derailed-my-happy-moment face at Arthur, knowing Arthur was going to bring up Merlin's less-than-adequate money situation, and he'd wanted to head it off at the pass.
Arthur paused and frowned, and let his eyes rove over Merlin's purposefully crestfallen face. Excellent.
"Look, we could get something with three bedrooms! Gwen and Lancelot can have the biggest one, because they're all... you know... that" Merlin again made a gesture circulating around their faces which were still leaned towards one another, Lance's hand dangled at Gwen's head, idly playing with a curl.
"And then Arthur and I could share still–"
"Now wait a minute!" Arthur interrupted. "Why do they–"
Merlin slapped a hand over Arthur's mouth causing him to jerk back. Whoops. Too hard. Depth perception is not his strongest suit while tipsy.
"Because.... becaaaauuuuse, the third room can be your studio!"
Arthur's eyes went a bit wide over Merlin's hand still clapped on his mouth. They'd been cramped in a tiny dorm room forever, and Arthur had no room draw.
He'd kept his hand there, and darted his eyes between Arthur's for a solid three seconds before Arthur blinked a slow relenting blink at him.
"Yes!" Merlin's fist shot into the air, and Arthur forced his mouth into a thin and severe line. It's just how he does. But Merlin knows it's because he is trying not to laugh at all Merlin's glee.
"What about me?" Gwaine piped up.
"The couch," Merlin and Arthur spoke in unison turning to look at him.
"Ouch!"
"You're a couch surfer anyway. You'll never give up your place. And you are NOT bringing your... friends round to ours."
"Fair enough, mate," Gwaine grinned.
*****
And now here they are, standing on the steps to their new house. Well, new is stretching it a touch, but it's theirs. Well, it's their rental. But still. Arthur is kind of excited. His own studio. He'll never tell Merlin, of course.
Arthur nudges the door open with a foot, and let's Merlin pass before him. Who says chivalry is dead?
Once they're inside, Arthur sets the box down and pulls the sleeping bag that was perched on top of it off, heading for their room. They didn't have their own beds from home yet, so the floor it is for now. It's not Arthur's style by any stretch, but it's only a week before the trucks arrive.
"Wait!" Merlin calls, and Arthur stops. "I got us something!" Merlin goes bounding past him and stands in front of the door with his arms out, blocking Arthur's entrance. "Close your eyes."
Arthur raises an eyebrow. Nothing that follows the phrase 'close your eyes', when coming from Merlin, is ever good.
Arthur looks at Lance and Gwaine standing hands on hips in the middle of their empty living room looking sweaty and winded and far too pleased. Gwen is looking worriedly at Merlin like she fears for him.
Arthur decidedly does not close his eyes and strides over to Merlin. "What did you do?"
"Close your eyes."
"No."
"Please?" Merlin's eyes go all wide and imploring and Arthur wants to punch something, because he knows. He knows he is going to...
He closes his eyes.
He feels Merlin's fingers curl over his shoulder, and hears the door opening. He is led inside mechanically and then Merlin turns him a bit at an angle before stepping away.
"Now open!"
Arthur opens his eyes, and before his mouth can reach its full hanging-open potential, Merlin crows, "I'm the top!"
Gwaine bursts out laughing behind him and Arthur whips around to point at him and glare until Gwaine covers it with a hand and falls silent, shoulders still shaking with mirth. Pervert.
Arthur turns back slowly to see Merlin's face stretched Chesire Cat wide around a smile.
"Merlin. No. No way. We are NOT sleeping in a bunk bed."
"Why not?" Merlin looks genuinely surprised that Arthur could possibly refuse. "It's cool! Bunk beds are cool!"
No, Merlin. They're not. Bow ties are not cool, and neither are bunk beds.
"Matt Smith!" Merlin blurts.
Arthur, along with the other three, chant back; "David Tennant!"
Merlin, honest to God, folds his arms over his chest and scowls. "If I say 'David Tennant' can we keep the bunk bed?"
"No." Arthur also folds his arms and widens his stance. He will hold his ground. He is not doing this. No way. And certainly not on the bottom. He wills the blush away. Damn it, Gwaine. "Come on."
He turns and stalks out, and just knows Merlin will follow. He always does, even when he shouldn't.
"Where are we going?"
"Shopping."
"For what?" Merlin says suspiciously.
"Beds, Merlin. We're going shopping for beds. And we are going to find someone to come hall that atrocity out of here."
He just keeps walking, Merlin catching up, tripping after him down the stairs out front.
"Oh come on, Arthur. Think about it! There's more space in the room now, we could get, I don't know, bean bags or something so we can play games together. And..." At this, Merlin pauses, and Arthur pulls open the door to Gwaine's truck, keys still sitting on the seat.
"More privacy."
Arthur stops midway into getting in the truck and stares at Merlin.
Sure, being side by side in a dorm wasn't always ideal for privacy. And while there were some awkward moments–one catching the other getting up to... things–it's not like it was frequent enough to justify bunk beds of all things. Besides, he can just hear that thing creaking now–anytime either one of them shifts, let alone... No. Nope.
"Get in the car, Merlin."
"Why do I have to go?" He asks, still climbing into the car anyway. Merlin thinks he has all the power, but he still just keeps following, and Arthur might be a little smug about that.
"Because, if I leave you alone for more than four minutes, you will find something else utterly ridiculous to waste your money on, and I do not want to come home to something else your scatterbrain has dreamt up."
Merlin pulls his seatbelt on and sits back with a huff of air, folding his hands across his waist.
*****
So. Merlin might have a bit of magic. Just a bit, really. But it's enough.
Arthur halls him to three different bedding stores and in each one finds something hideously wrong with whatever bed he tries.
When he lays on one of those 'would-be fancy' beds that you can apparently adjust the stiffness of (it's really just a glorified air mattress), all the air gusts out of it with an embarrassing noise and Arthur is left sinking in a mass of gaudy duvet and pillows, scrambling to right himself while the staff flutters about apologizing.
The second one is sturdy and wood-framed, and actually quite nice. Definitely posh enough for Arthur. When Arthur perches on the corner of it, the well-made leg snaps and the corner thumps down onto the wood floor with a noise that rings through the shop, all eyes turning to Arthur. Merlin took a few steps away from Arthur after that one. He was not happy.
In the final store, Arthur looks both determined and wary. Merlin can't blame him. He stalks around the non-linear isles, sizing up each bed, probably trying to think of all the things that could go wrong with it before attempting to test it out.
Finally he chooses a plain and innocent bed that looks completely unassuming in the back corner of the store, like it's not quite popular enough to hang with the cool mattresses near the glass storefront. He nudges it with a foot, and Merlin almost feels bad for already sabotaging it in his head.
When Arthur sits gingerly on the edge, not daring to put his full weight on it, Merlin waits. He has to time this perfectly. God, he's an ass, and he knows it. But he knows those bunk beds are going to be awesome, and Arthur will grow to love them as much as he does. He'll see.
When nothing deflates or collapses, Arthur relaxes a bit and bounces experimentally, testing the give of the mattress. He pokes his bottom lip out and nods. "This one's good. It's nice." He lays back and swings his legs up onto it stretching his hands behind his head and wriggling down into it a bit.
Merlin wants to look away, he wants to pre-cringe. He wants those bunk beds, though.
Just when all of Arthur's muscles visibly start to unwind, and Merlin can see him literally falling in love with it...
The whole thing just... goes. All four legs of the bed snap off and the bed lands with a crash onto the floor, Arthur jerking up in shock, face going red with embarrassment and rage. A few moments of silence is enough for Merlin and Arthur to watch one of the snapped legs rolling ominously away and hitting the wall with a gentle thunk.
Every staff member in the store is swarming around Arthur, helping him up, dusting nothing off of him and flailing about hilariously, according to Merlin, who is doing a bang up job of pretending to be shocked and outraged on Arthur's behalf.
He doesn't have a skip in his step trailing Arthur, who is now just resigned and quiet back to the truck. Not much of one anyway.
*****
"Arthur?" Merlin's head appears upside down, his dark hair wavy and dangling with gravity just over the edge of the top bunk. "You awake?"
"No."
Merlin doesn't answer, but the loud creak of the bed–see? creaking!–precedes Merlin's long legs slipping off the edge, and he slides down, his shirt getting caught and riding up before he lands barefoot on the carpet. Arthur stares–God help me–too long at his exposed torso and then rolls his eyes up to the underside of the bunk just when Merlin ducks his head under and plops down on the edge of Arthur's mattress.
Merlin bends his knee up onto the edge to face Arthur, and Arthur scoots over a bit to make room. It's not intentional, but he notices it once he does. They are always like that, if he thinks about it. One moves, and the other just adjusts accordingly. It's kind of neat, actually.
"Do you really hate it?"
"Hate what, Merlin?" Arthur is a touch distracted thinking about the nature of himandMerlin, but when Merlin snorts quiet amusement, he catches up.
"Oh. Yes."
"Liar." Merlin nudges Arthur's hip with his bent knee.
"You have a week."
"To convince you to love it?" Merlin reaches up and pats the wood paneling beneath his mattress lovingly.
"Until it is replaced by our own beds."
"To convince you."
"Go to sleep, Merlin."
Merlin just flops down onto the mattress next to Arthur playfully, and totally invades all his space. "Okay, if you say so."
Arthur shoves at him, trying not to laugh, but not really succeeding. "Merlin, you idiot! Get off me."
Merlin is immovable and does every obnoxious thing he can think of to herd Arthur back against the wall before settling his head against Arthur shoulder and blinking up at him all mock innocence and playfulness. "You said go to sleep."
"In your own bed, Merlin." He tilts his head down to look annoyed at Merlin, but finds that is he is looking directly into Merlin's happy eyes. Locked there, really. And the air does a thing... Or maybe it's just their breath stilling, a hitch that signifies how uncertain things suddenly feel.
Merlin bites the edge of the inside of his lip and Arthur watches.
He lifts a hand slowly and lets two fingers trace across the edge of Merlin's jaw, where his head is tilted up at Arthur, the play in his eyes has changed into something else, and Arthur understands the look on Merlin's face. He can't name it either, but he gets it.
He leans down and brushes his lips gently over Merlin's, just once and then pulls back enough to look at Merlin's face. Eyes closed, and a small smile.
"I am so going to win you over."
Arthur huffs out a surprised noise, the tense moment broken instantly, but still changed. One moves, and the other adjusts, and when Arthur wiggles his way further onto the bed, trying to claim more space for himself, Merlin shifts and then resettles himself on Arthur's chest.
"You're not."
He so, definitely, is.