Merthur Oneshots

Actor

4724 words

Merlin is at the library looking for a couple of books so he can finish his politics essay due next week, when a sheepish looking Gwaine slides up next to him. He doesn't say anything but Merlin can tell there is something he needs from the way he pretends he's interested in An Introduction to Philosophical Analysis, he cradles the open book in his arms making a noise of approval as if he's satisfied with the content.

"Gwaine, was there something I could help you with?" Merlin asks mildly miffed.

If there ever was a look of unadulterated guilt then Gwaine is the very definition of it. "What happened?" He narrows his eyes not sure he's ready for whatever's coming. It could be anything.

"I did a thing," Gwaine answers trying to act like it's nothing, but Merlin knows better. It's Gwaine. He's aware of how he operates.

"You better tell me right now what you did or I will honestly consider getting a new flatmate, I swear," Merlin says. He's not usually big on threats but even he has a limit. Gwaine almost drops the book but catches it at the last second, taking quite a bit putting it back, going as far as to caress its spine.

"There's no need for ultimatums. I think you're going to find this funny actually." Gwaine doesn't look too convinced. Merlin makes a sign with his hand asking him silently to go on. "Right." Gwaine falters. Takes a deep breath. "Do you remember around a month ago, how we got drunk and ended up in your room watching movies with that posh actor you like so much?"

Being friends with Gwaine means three out of the seven days of the week he's dragged to a party or to a pub or simply roped into ditching his homework to watch a Doctor Who marathon with him. So no, he doesn't remember what Gwaine is talking about. "You'll have to be more specific."

"You know, the night that movie about sorcerers and dragons and forbidden love was on, and then you were waxing poetic about the blond actor's strong legs and golden smile, I might be paraphrasing here, but the sentiment is the same."

"You're rambling," Merlin says, the night in question coming back to him slowly. They were watching The Future King and his not so secret crush on Arthur Pendragon took center stage. He was pissed and well, a man can dream. He crosses his arms. "Please, to the real point, Gwaine."

"Anyway, there was this contest, Dinner with a Fan and if you won you could go to a five stars restaurant with Pendragon? That's his name, right? And I was still sort of drunk when I found out about it and, well..." Gwaine's face is one of contrition.

Merlin puts two and two together and doesn't like what he comes up with. "Oh no, tell me you didn't."

"I might have entered you and you won. Congratulations!"

Merlin is too numb to do anything when Gwaine traps him in a smothering hug.

•••

Merlin's never been surrounded with such opulence he might as well be wearing rags because nothing he owns could ever be up to the standards of the restaurant. It's possible the cutlery is more expensive than all the furniture in his flat put together.
He hates Gwaine for making this happen, he also resents Gwen because she pushed him out the door ignoring his stuttering feet, claiming he had to do this for both of them and the other fans who are crushed they didn't get their magical night with Arthur. Arthur Pendragon is as much her celebrity crush as it is his. Even her boyfriend Lance once joked about them starting a fan club.

He cleans his sweaty palms on his jeans--the nicest jeans on his wardrobe--wondering if the spiffed up people in the nearby tables find odd that a well known film star and a broke student are sharing an evening together.