Hey there, so this is an Arthur/Merlin story. Yeah. It's a two shot, I think. May be longer, depends on how people like it. So please REVIEW. I love them more than Humus. Which is saying something.

Disclaimer: So that not owning thing? Applies to me too.

A Lesson in Etiquette

"So you slept with him."

It wasn't a question. It was statement; therefore Arthur did not think he was obliged to answer. Though, the way Gwaine was peering over his beer mug with one eye brow raised and a frown on his face told him otherwise. If it was Leon, they could've just let it go, if it was Lancelot there would be no discussion just radiating waves of anger, but Gwaine-when Gwaine didn't like something he drug it out. He tried to make you feel guilt until your insides turned to mush.

Arthur could only groan in response, "Yes, I did. Are you happy now?"

His chair was tilted backwards to as far as gravity would allow, and his feet crossed at the ankles on the far side of the table. Every once or twice the waitresses and bar tenders would shoot him disapproving looks, but he either paid them no mind or kept his full concentration on slowly making Arthur feel like shit.

"No, not at all." He popped his neck between his hands and rolled his knuckles against each other until they made a resounding crack. "Aren't you always saying how you have that mob of girls? Why couldn't ya use one of them? Hell, I'd be using one of them right now."

Arthur shook his head. Why? He couldn't answer that. He had been completely devoured in the state of intoxication where everything became a fictional fantasy, and in the morning he would return to the real world where nothing remained but a screaming hangover.

"It's not like I meant to."

He snorted in response, and his lip curled up so far in disgust that it hit under the bottom scruff of his mustache. Arthur didn't even know such a look was possible. Gwaine opened his mouth to retort but was swiftly interrupted by Leon.

Ever studious, ever serious, Leon never became upset over the past but worried over the future. "Did you speak about it with him?"

No.

No he had not. Why? Because Merlin vanished. Arthur wasn't ready to speak to Lancelot either, even though he knew that he would be the one who knew where Merlin had gone. Merlin had plenty of friends, but when a secret was involved, Lancelot would be the first to know.

He was just still peeved, and if Lance heard anything about last night he would be ready to murder Arthur.

"He was gone. I thought everything would go back to normal in the morning-and we could forget it ever happened. But he's gone. It's not my fault, you know that idiot never says no to…what he should be saying no to. And of course he never does what you say when he's supposed to bu-"

Gwaine made another snort/grunting noise in response, and a very derogatory word at Arthur under his breath.

"Maybe he did, but you can't hear anything through your thick head."

Leon coughed at the statement, a subtle warning to Gwaine that he was pushing into territory, which would make things difficult for the both of them. Even though he always supported Arthur, and never went against him unless it was for his own good. Arthur did have to admit he looked downright uncomfortable in this situation. There were only a handful of times that Arthur had done something both unethical and terrible. He had always managed this discreetly noble nature, which was why Leon always stayed by his side even when he strayed momentarily from that path.

"My head isn't thick. You know Merlin, he always does, he doesn't ever," He sighed, the words were coming out of his mouth in barely comprehensible strands. He finished with "Do what he should."

"Have you called him?"

"No, he left his phone at the apartment. Barely knows how to function the thing anyways, but he'll call." He leaned back, took a swig of his drink, and forced his face into a passive expression. His I-don't-care face, his I-can-handle-any-sort-of-situation-because-I'm-Arthur-Pendragon, and more applicable to this situation the I-don't-need-Merlin face.

"He'll call," He repeated dismissively.

"Maybe he's fed up with you; I would be if I was him." Gwaine said. There it was, Gwaine's guilt.

"He's Merlin. Of course he'll call me. He always says I'd die without him. Even though that's clearly not true, I'm sure even he doesn't want me to die." He emphasized the final word, with his eyes wide and a humorous tone trying to ease the tension.

Gwaine stood up. At first Arthur swore he was going to strike him. A bar fight was right up his alley. He swore that even though Gwaine constantly played the nonchalant cool guy with the instant smolder; he was a fanatic for dramatics. In fact they had met in such a manner, he had told Merlin (who told Arthur later) that he just helped them, because he enjoyed situations where he had no chance of surviving.

He slammed his hand down on the table, and his voice dropped to a level Arthur had not heard before. "Well, mate, I think if I'm in your presence any longer I'll beat Lance to killing you." He slid his hand away, and with swagger in his step started towards the door, "But when he doesn't call you, princess, don't come all pissy to me."

"He'll call." Arthur muttered again to himself.

He didn't call.

But that wasn't what was bothering Arthur. It was the fact that Merlin was still coming home. Almost every day in fact. How did he know this? Because Arthur remembered leaving a pizza box out the night before and this morning it was gone. It wasn't just that, the beds were made when he got home, the dishes were done, and unless a phantom maid decided to haunt his house there was only one person it could be.

Merlin was clearly taunting him.

It was nice Merlin was fulfilling his duties properly. That was their deal, since Arthur had inherited all of his family wealth from his father's death; he was easily able to afford the flat. In exchange, for his share of the rent, Merlin took care of all the housework. Arthur also partly used the apartment as an excuse to order Merlin around. Which he bitched, whined, complained, and sometimes refused to do all together (or did incorrectly).

So, Merlin was properly doing his chores, but arranging the time so he avoided Arthur. The apartment looked the same, and Arthur could go about his daily life.

Well, minus the Merlin.

It was nice to have some peace. There were no insults, no constant banter that he had to partake in, or annoying habits that Merlin would suddenly adapt when he needed to focus. Oh God, one time when Arthur had the most important final that would determine whether he passed a class (if he failed his father would never forgive him) and Merlin wouldn't stop hiccupping.

Then, almost two weeks since the incident, Arthur started to feel…odd.

His chemistry class was a killer. Merlin hadn't aced it last year. It wasn't that he was not good at school-it was just that he went through instances where he displayed enormous amounts of wisdom, and therefore Arthur believed Merlin was storing up all of his deep intelligence for those moments.

But, ever since high school, Merlin's guardian Gaius had been persistence in nagging Merlin to pursue a career as a physician. Even though Merlin had chosen an entirely different route, his knowledge on the subject was greater than Arthur's.

"Merlin come bring me a soda and help."

There was nothing but silence.

"Merlin?" He yelled a little louder. When another minute went by, Arthur stood up from his seat. The plush red couch was placed in the middle of their living room, close enough to Merlin's bed room where it would be impossible not to hear him even through the closed door.

"Most people would be thrilled to do my home work." He left enough of a pause for a snarky retort, and when none came, he jiggled the door handle open. The Pendragon crest was embedded into the center of the dark cherry wood, and it pinged a little something in Arthur's chest at the memory of his childhood home.

"C'mon Merlin…"

He was expecting Merlin to be sitting cross-legged on his bed with a text book in his lap. His beat-up tan jacket would be hanging over the far left corner, and a mixture of papers and binders would be covering the entire surface.

He would be completely lost in concentration. His eyebrows knitted slightly together, just so a slight v-wrinkle formed in the center of his forehead, and every now and then he would scratch just above one ear in thought. Arthur would have to repeat himself, and then finally Merlin would look up. At first he would seem a little surprised, but then just a flicker of a smile would appear on his face. A smile that lifted up just one corner of his lips, the smile that he reserved exclusively for right before he was about to taunt Arthur.

"Do you ever say please? I always thought they taught you some manners in those rich snobby houses." He would let go of his book so it lay in his lap without any support. Then he would shift backwards onto his outspread hands that would cause his shirt to fall back loosely against his non-existent stomach, and outlined the crease of his ribs and hips.

Arthur would frown, and then continued, "Well you have very few uses Merlin, and I have to take what I can get."

"I'm clearly doing something her-"He couldn't finish before Arthur in a flash, ripped the book out of Arthur's lap. Merlin, though his speed had improved over the years from dodging Arthur's blows and the various objects that were thrown at him, curled up to protect it a second too late. "I should complain about this to someone. I'm clearly being bullied."

Arthur was already almost out the door, waving the book over his shoulder tauntingly to beckon Merlin to follow.

"Oh shut up, and help me."

There would only be the sound of shuffling papers and Merlin gathering things to work on while he coached Arthur. It led Arthur to believe that he had really shut up. But this was Merlin; the longest span of quiet lasted minutes at most.

"Please?" He baited.

Merlin would be standing directly behind him, his toes centimeter away from Arthur's heels. He would be grinning, not that broad one that crinkled his eyes, but the one that showed just a fraction of a dimple and a sliver of his front teeth.

"Merlin can't you do anything I ask?" He would walk out a few steps, enough to let Merlin slide past him.

"If you ever said please, then maybe I would. What section?"

Arthur would tell him which, the part with physics, and they would sit down on the couch again. Merlin would instruct him carefully. He'd pause and laugh whenever he made a mistake, and then sit with Arthur while he did his assignment, just in case he had another question.

But that didn't happen.

Instead the room was barren. The original furniture was still there, but all of Merlin's personal items were gone. Arthur assumed where when he saw a series of boxes strewn across the floor. The closet was cracked open and also just as empty, not even a neckerchief remained.

Just then it hit him. It was like he was hit in the gut with a block of ice. The cold raced up from his stomach, and clenched at his chest, his throat, until he could feel the color evaporate form his cheeks and the hair on the back of his neck raise.

Merlin was gone.

He told himself before that he wouldn't be lonely, and right now he was repeating in his head that he wasn't lonely, he wasn't upset, and he didn't need Merlin.

Yet, he found himself smashing buttons so frantically that he dialed the wrong number more times than he did correctly.

He called Leon, who didn't answer, but voice mail gave him false hope that Merlin was with him because he could faintly hear his laughter in the back ground before he realized it was recorded and from some time ago. He called Gwaine who answered, said a sentence, and then hung up. He called Elyan, Percival, and even Gwen who all either refused to tell him anything or didn't know anything.

Finally when he was laying on his couch staring up at the ceiling with his phone on his stomach, and the television blaring at a billion or so decibels just to cure the silence and try to force the last words that Gwaine had said to him out of his mind during their thirty second conversation.

"I think he isn't coming back, mate." He didn't say it in the mocking Gwaine way, or the joking Gwaine way, or the I'm just trying to piss you off Gwaine way, he said it sympathetically. With pity on the end of his sentence that brought the words out to a long drawl that imprinted into his mind.

He stood up. He needed to focus on his chemistry, because he couldn't let this one event damage his grade, and the way people saw him back home, and the only way to do that was talk to someone even if they wouldn't be able to hear it until later.

He called Leon again and left a message.

"Leon it's Arthur," He paced across the room as he spoke, "Have you seen Merlin? I haven't heard from him in the past few days or been able to catch him on campus," he sighed, not as much of a sigh as it was a frustrated out breathing of air, "And the house is just a mess," lie, "And his stuff isn't here so I was wondering if that's his weird Merlin way of telling me he's moved out," Arthur's laugh was dry with forced humor that cracked at the end.

His tone dropped to a serious growl, "Call me if you see him."

He threw the phone over his shoulder.

Tomorrow, tomorrow he would start his Merlin hunt.

He could wait till then.

It wasn't like Arthur needed Merlin.

Right?

"How does someone even get this wasted?" Merlin flicked the lights on in the apartment. One of Arthur's arms was slung around his neck and over his shoulder. His legs had become jelly at some point during their walk up the flight of stairs, and Merlin had been able to catch him just before he collapsed.

Arthur had this silly drunken grin on his face, where his mouth was upturned in a wiggly line and he was rambling nonsense. Nonsense that Merlin was supposed to be listening to.

"Me'lin you listen'?"

"Uh huh yeah," Merlin then added to himself in a murmur, "Even though you're too drunk to remember your own name."

"Lancelot and Gwen are getting engaged." It was the longest sentence he had said that was actually comprehensible. Well, he had made the statement before, several times actually when they were in the bar. But as the night went on and he became more and more intoxicated he was able to say it as fact rather than the most depressing thing he had ever heard.

Arthur was on to his final stage of drunk. It was the state where he lost all sense of reason, and became completely unaware of his surroundings and the consequences of his actions. One time, he had even tried to go out without any trousers on. Merlin never let him live that one down, especially because he was going to go visit his father pant less.

He couldn't guide Arthur towards his bed room with him being completely delirious, and the couch was the closest thing. The final stage, after this one, was the black out. And Merlin would not be able to heave Arthur off the floor if that happened. So hopefully if it did, he would collapse on to the couch, which was the next best thing.

He didn't respond. He had aided Arthur in his affections, and Arthur had to imagine he was feeling the least bit responsible.

"I know it's not like Gwen's the only girl." He offered, and Arthur grunted. They were now directly in front of the dark red sofa. "You're attractive, and uh some people would say likeable." Arthur pulled away from Merlin so he stood on his own. He kept one hand clasped on Merlin's shoulder, for support. They stood facing each other, Arthur's eyes were a brighter blue with the whites of his eyes tainted slightly red from all of the gin.

"Merlin, how come you don't ever have a girlfriend?" Merlin shifted from side to side, the question obviously made him awkward. At the time, Arthur had forgotten all about his only girl, Freya, whom he had a nasty break up with. He shuffled in his stance, and his answer was stuttered and Arthur cut him off before he could finish.

He came closer, just so if Arthur was a little taller their foreheads would brush.

The slur in his voice was starting to increase, "You can't hide things from me Mer'in."

He backed up a little more. Arthur noticed the light blush spreading on the top of his cheek bones. It wasn't a lot, just evident against his paler than pale skin.

"I've just never been interested in girls um I mean dating…anything like that." Arthur didn't say anything. He didn't do anything either. He was just staring with his head cocked slightly to the side, and then a smirk wound across his face.

At first it seemed like Arthur was going to fall, and Merlin's hand shot out to ease the blow. Arthur grabbed his right wrist, the one facing the couch, and twisted it sideways. Using the slack in Merlin's defense due to surprise Arthur yanked his wrist downwards. That combined with how his other hand had slid to his forearm and pushed, caused Merlin to fall ungracefully on the couch.

He landed with the top of his head bumping against the arm rest, legs parted, one of, and the other bent up with his heel (and sneakers still on) digging into the dent between the cushions. Before he got a chance to better arrange himself, Arthur was on top of him.

His knee was in between Merlin's legs, and his leg draped over the opposite hip. His hands had left Merlin's body in the shift of positions. But as soon as he was situated, he grabbed the wrist that was resting on the arm rest, and the shoulder of the arm that was dangling off the couch.

"What? Arthur what're you doing?"

Arthur was far stronger, so when Merlin began to try to lift his shoulder up and free himself, it was useless.

"Wait hold on a second. Arthur you're really drunk."

Arthur's mouth was on his. It wasn't a very nice kiss. It was rather rushed. His lower lip ended up kissing the dip before Merlin's chin, and his top snagged on the row of Merlin's bottom teeth. He was being defensive, his mouth unyielding to Arthur's attempt. He tried again though, this time making a solid impact, but with a loud bruising smack. Arthur's hand left his wrist and moved to scoop up Merlin's head for a better angle.

Sure enough, as soon as he was released, Merlin was shoving at Arthur's chest to move him away. Arthur tried to growl, which sounded more like a gurgle, and muttered, "I want it." The ordering tone he usually used with Merlin was there, yes, but there was something lurking behind it. It was a tone like that of a child when they wanted something so bad, so very badly, and were denied of it.

"Arthur this is not the way to deal with Gwen, you're just drunk and upset. I'm not going to let you do something you'll regret"

Then, in not even a whisper, in a voice that was as light as air itself, but held such emotion that it weighed down the statement and flooded Merlin's ears, Arthur pleaded, "Please. Please Merlin."

Merlin smiled. It wasn't like his half smile or broad smile which instantaneously lit up and transformed his face. This one started slowly with quivering lips that were as indecisive as he was at the moment. Then finally it appeared on his face, no teeth shown, not even dimples visible, but still a smile.

"You really are a manner-less prat."

Then Merlin let go of Arthur's shirt and let his hand fall back to the place between them. He allowed Arthur's hands to lift his head so their lips could meet, this time he did not miss. He kissed Merlin, again and again, in want-y need-y desperate for any human contact kisses.

Merlin obliged.

Arthur jolted awake. It was no surprised he had over slept. Again. He was used to Merlin bargaining in, throwing open his golden curtains, and chirping some un-amusing greeting phrase. Then when Arthur threw something at him, he would proceed to make as much noise as earthly possible while making breakfast.

That was how things were supposed to work.

Without him, all he had was the strands of light filtering in from the bottom and middle of the curtains, and his phone buzzing violently on his nightstand, which he had no doubt snoozed through the first five times it rang.

When he shut it off, it alerted him with an ear-splitting ding that he had a voice message. The wave of hope leapt so fast through him, that the only thing that could top such a dramatic change was the disappointment he felt when it read Leon's name instead of, well, instead of someone else's.

On his way he would listen to the message, because he couldn't stand to be here any longer. It was too quiet, it had been too fucking quiet, and from his room he could see the couch. He could see what happened, and even with the door to his room shut, and the area where it happened not visible; he could still remember now, quite clearly one particular thing.

Merlin never said yes.

After three minutes of beating around the bush, Leon in an straight tone gave his best attempt at an answer, "Sorry Arthur, he's not staying with me, I'm not sure if it's Gwaine or Lance but," He caught himself in the realization he was beginning to say too much, "Maybe," He started tentatively, "You're underestimating the situation?" Arthur could picture Leon wincing as those words came out. He quickly tried to unsuccessfully ease the harshness, "It isn't like Merlin not to call, and we all know about how he feels when he's with you." Leon's voice turned into a sputtering cough, "Oh shit, Arthur, forget I said that."

The line cut off.

Mission Find Merlin just became Arthur's top priority.

Arthur hated that word, feel. It was so discreet; it could mean so many things when it really was only supposed to be interpreted as one or maybe two. That's why Arthur hated the word, and he hated Leon using it. How was Arthur supposed to get anything from that? How was he supposed to know what feel was, when there was so many bloody meanings for it? All it caused was different situations playing through his head.

Merlin feels angry when he's with Arthur. Merlin feels sad when he's with Arthur. Merlin feels disappointment when he's with Arthur.

Merlin feels hatred when he's with Arthur.

There was so many, but especially one that was harder for Arthur to think about than hatred. It couldn't be any of those things, because Merlin was Merlin. He was always insulting him or telling bad jokes or doing what he asked or making him laugh or giving him advice or all of a sudden spewing some God damn wise-like saying. He was Merlin, and Merlin and Arthur didn't need to feel things for each other because they were…they were.

They were something.

Besides from that, Merlin had suddenly developed some magical talent for hiding. It was uncanny how the boy had managed to stay out of Arthur's sight for so long. It was getting to the point where whenever Arthur saw someone with shortly cut dark hair in a tan jacket, or a person with ears that stuck out a little farther than others, he bounded after them.

It was precisely another week and a half before he finally decided to talk to Lancelot.

It was by chance really. Arthur recently tended to spend his afternoons mulling around looking for Merlin, but he found the next best thing. Or well, not exactly. He had been avoiding Lance since the engagement announcement, because that's what they did when matters of Gwen became involved.

They would give each other space for an undetermined amount of time, until they either accidentally ran into each other or one of them decided to end the parting.

He was standing in the clearing of C-hall. The only place where you could clearly see the lawn and the rest of the campus, before disappearing into the pathway wedged between the two buildings.

"Hey," Arthur started, and interrupted whatever trance Lance was in.

He nodded sharply, and Arthur could tell he was mad. Lance was never the type of guy to lash out at someone. He quietly digested his anger, and kept his gentlemanly appearance no matter what the circumstances. Arthur doubted that Lance was mad because Arthur had been avoiding him. He knew it was about Merlin, he knew it from the way Lance set his jaw and clenched his fist.

Merlin was Lance's best friend, and he would die for him. Despite his immense amount of respect for Arthur, he knew that Lance would not forgive him about this quickly.

He unclenched one hand in a small wave. It was an awkward silence, they both knew what they wanted –needed- to talk about, but the subject was delicate to approach. Arthur finally fell back against the cement wall next to him.

His voice was extraordinarily deep when he asked, "Have you seen him?"

Lance stiffened next to him. His fingers were gripping on the curve of his elbows so fiercely that the skin had small white imprints spreading out from under his fingertips.

"Lancelot?" He tried again.

He moved out of the clearing and to where they weren't quite so visible to the masses of students lounging on the lawn and picnic tables. Arthur assumed it was just in case things became…tense.

With a deep breath he answered, "Merlin's my friend."

Arthur didn't know how to respond so he let the silence set in again. He licked his lips; there was still a small in bump on his top from where it hit Merlin's teeth. "We're friends."

"I know, I-I I'm sorry Arthur. Merlin is, he's my best friend, and I vowed to myself that if I had the power to, I would keep him happy, safe, from anything." There was that honor. That unhidden devotion that made him sound like he belonged in a fairy tale, he knew that's what Gwen fell in love with. It wasn't that Arthur didn't have that honor that sheer will to protect who he loved; no he did perhaps just as strong as Lancelot. But Lancelot's was overwhelming; you could hear every word he spoke rang with pure passion and honesty.

"Can you tell me how he feels?" The authority in his voice was unbroken, unlike the first question that held vulnerability.

Lance sighed, "You're lucky, Arthur. If I was you I would…It's not up to me."

"Please Lance."

He paused, swallowed hard, and then asked, "Do you miss him?"

Arthur was instantly taken aback by the idea. His eye brows lifted up, one side of his mouth turned down into a frown, and he scoffed, "No." The word didn't come out right though. It was raspy and cracked, separating the word into two syllables. He coughed once to clear his throat, and responded clearer, "No, of course not he's Merlin."

Lancelot shook his head while replying, "I can't Arthur. I can't. It's not right. No."

Arthur was close to snapping, he was close to yelling. He was close to lashing out at Lancelot, and deciding to blame everything on him. Though the shame he instantly felt for thinking that overwhelmed any idea of doing so. He dipped his head in a nod, and turned on his heel, and slowly walked away.

In his time, Arthur had many conversations with people. It was part of his father training him to take over the company business; 'people skills' were a key part of running a major corporation.

He was very aware when there were things still left to be said. The conversation ended too soon, and regret was building in the pit of Arthur's stomach. He turned around to finish, and surprisingly an apology was at the tip of his tongue.

Then a figure ran across the lawn. Arthur was a solid twenty feet away, the buildings that stood on either side of the hallway had secluded him from the other students. Lance had moved back to his previous position. The figure came up to him smiling broadly, and placing a hand on his shoulder while trying to catch his breath.

It took a bit for Arthur to recognize him.

But the way Lance was fidgeting, and trying to get the two of them to leave, Arthur immediately realized who it was. Plus, he didn't know anyone else that was that thin, and wore those stupid scarves-neckerchiefs, whatever.

Anger bubbled inside of him. It was completely opposite from the feeling he had first gotten when he realized Merlin was gone. He was hit with a ball of fire, and it heated his neck, cheeks, and ears, until Arthur was sure he could breathe flames if he wanted to.

How dare Merlin be ignoring Arthur for weeks, and then so casually meet up with Lancelot? How dare he look so happy, so downright pleased when Arthur had been feeling like he had been stabbed in the gut?

Before he knew it he was stomping towards them. His steps were so heavy that the slamming noise was reverberating against the walls, and when he was close enough he stopped and hollered. "So Merlin you finally decided to show your face."

Merlin's mouth dropped a little, and he stumbled backwards. His arm twitched at his side, unsure if he should wave or not. Then his lips tried to smile again, a nervous grin that was accompanied by knitted eyebrows, and a forced laugh.

Arthur's steps got faster, and Merlin was backing up. And then, maybe it was because of the way Arthur's words were grit out, or the way he was grinding his teeth and looked damn ready to kill the next thing he got his hands on, or the way Lancelot was starting to panic; Merlin ran.

He took off sprinting in the opposite direction of Arthur.

Of course, Arthur was right behind him.

So please REVIEWand let me know how I did/if everyone is in character. Since this is my first Merlin fic I'm nervous.