A/N: Hello everybody! Here we have a bit of a departure from my usual style. But hey, a tumblr post caught my eye and someone requested I write it and I couldn't let 'em down, could I? So here's some smut for you. With banter and snark. Cuz you know. These two.

(PS. There used to be italics throughout for emphasis. But formatting got lost through copy and pasting from various things because my laptop still doesn't have microsoft word damn it and the word pad function doesn't support good formatting. -sigh- But I'm too lazy to go searching all the way through to find every place I had italics when I actually wrote it.)

Fucking fire alarm. Fucking april weather. Fucking dormitories. Fucking middle of the fucking night.

Arthur continues to curse anything and everything he can think of to curse as the alarm blares repeatedly, loud enough to shatter his goddamn eardrums. 3am on goddamn wednesday (thursday? Does it count as thursday yet? No, it isn't thursday until the sun comes up damn it) and some idiot decides to make bacon and fucks it up. Congratulations, asshat, you are now public enemy number one for the entire block.

Arthur grumbles and curses and stumbles out along the corridor flooded with grumpy students in their pyjamas and lets himself get towed down the stairs and out the front door into the cold april air. He's infinitely glad there was a jacket hanging on his doorknob or he'd be freezing his own knob off. As it is, he wonders idly if he might lose his toes. He stands barefoot in the middle of the street and stares up at his building, almost hoping to see flames if only to justify not being asleep anymore.

He watches the entrance and the never-ending stream of pissed off uni students spewing from it. He sort of zones out, still less than awake, until a whole lot of skin catches his eye. He leans to the side to get a better look and then almost topples over out of shock.

It's Merlin. Merlin, the utter geek with the Dumbo ears and the baggy clothes and the damn pocket protector. But he's not wearing any of the baggy clothes right now. No, he's stripped down all the way to a pair of tight boxers. Very tight boxers. Boxers that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. Arthur's mouth goes dry. Holy fuck.

Merlin stumbles his way across the street, rubbing his eyes and obviously trying to wake himself up. He somehow ends up next to Arthur, and Arthur isn't sure if he wants to swear or pump the air in triumph. He sort of just ends up staring. Merlin yawns loudly and rubs a hand through his bedhead—which Arthur kicks himself mentally for thinking looks like sex hair—then shakes his head and blinks several times. He crosses his arms over his chest, which is a lot more muscular than Arthur would have guessed considering he usually wears t shirts three sizes too big for him that make him look prepubescent, and stands staring up at the building like Arthur had been doing, a scowl on his face.

Arthur can't help but glance down. He tries not to, he really does, but his eyes are drawn inexorably to the way Merlin's cock strains at the worn fabric of his boxers. They look a little too small for him and Arthur wonders if Merlin usually sleeps naked and just grabbed whatever was closest to the bed when the alarm went off so he wasn't out here starkers. Well, he's as good as. Arthur swallows hard.

"Oi, eyes are up here, mate."

Arthur jumps. Merlin's not even looking his direction, but it was definitely him who said it. Arthur flushes hot and dark at being caught out.

"Pardon?" he says, trying to sound innocent or confused or something other than incredibly turned on.

"I said my eyes are up here," Merlin repeats without glancing over. "You can either stop staring at my package or you can pay for the peep show."

Arthur gapes at him, his cheeks trying valiantly to flush darker even though all his blood is rushing south as fast as possible and he's a little tiny bit lightheaded. Then he opens his mouth and says possibly the skeeziest thing he has ever said.

"Does that mean if I do pay, I can keep staring?"

That gets Merlin to look at him, torn between incredulity and offense. Arthur tries very hard not to lick his lips at the sight of Merlin with his mouth gaping open. He had never thought of Merlin's mouth before, but now that he saw it up close like this and with his mind already firmly in the gutter, he sees how red Merlin's lips are, how soft they look, how wide his mouth is. He wonders if Merlin likes to suck cock as much as he does, or if he prefers to be the one fucking someone else's mouth. He tries to keep those thoughts off his face at least, though he knows there's no getting them out of his mind. He puts on his negotiation face and waits.

Merlin splutters. Then he scowls even darker than he had at the fire alarm.

"I am not for sale," he says.

"You're the one who proposed the deal," Arthur says with a shrug. Merlin glares at him, but it's broken by a full-bodied shiver and he wraps his arms around his middle.

"Fine. Give me your coat and you can ogle me all you want," Merlin says. "Otherwise there won't be anything left to ogle; I'll have frozen my bollocks off in a few more minutes."

Arthur looks him up and down, contemplating the offer and if he really wants to make this much of an asshole of himself. Then he shrugs out of his jacket and throws it around Merlin's thin—but not as thin as they usually look—shoulders. Merlin lets out an orgasmic noise of relief that makes Arthur bite his lip to keep from responding in kind. Merlin pulls the jacket tight around his torso, but he doesn't hunch in or try to pull it down to cover his crotch. Arthur's impressed. Merlin's a man of his word and he'll obviously honor even an incredibly sex-fiendish deal like this.

Arthur hates himself for it, but he does ogle Merlin some more. It's just his cock. Well, his cock and the trail of dark hair leading down to it, and the impressive V of his hipbones, and his flat stomach, and— Okay, so Arthur is quickly being forced to admit that Merlin the Geek is incredibly hot out of his clothes. And that cock makes Arthur want to drop to his knees and worship. Holy hell, he hasn't seen a bulge like that in a long time, and he's on the football team surrounded by large and muscular men all the time. Merlin is something else.

Merlin is also holding himself very still and obviously trying not to squirm in discomfort. Arthur looks away, feeling guilty again. But the cock draws him back. It would be heavy, hot. He wonders if he could even fit his lips around it. How much of it could he take in his mouth? Could he deep throat it? Was that even possible with a cock that large?

"Hey, mate, you feeling alright?"

Arthur snaps around to see Leon, one such friend from the footie team, in baggy boxers and a t shirt. He clears his throat.

"Course I am. Why do you ask?" He hopes it doesn't come out as strangled as he thinks it does. Leon looks genuinely concerned.

"You're flushed. Do you have a fever?" Leon reaches out like he's going to check Arthur's forehead like a damn mother hen and Arthur bats his hand away.

"I'm perfectly fine, Leon," he grouses.

"Are you sure?" Leon presses.

"Yeah, you sure you're not sick? You look sick," Gwaine asks, sidling up alongside Leon looking like a damn underwear model as usual. Then he takes in Merlin, with Arthur's jacket around his shoulders, long legs bare, and threadbare boxers far too tight. He lets out an appreciative whistle.

"Shite. Look at you," he says, and Merlin rolls his eyes.

"Thanks, Gwaine. Feel free to ogle me, that's all this prat's been doing for the last half hour."

Arthur might actually die of humiliation. Gwaine raises his eyebrows and looks at Arthur with that smug smirk of his and Arthur knows he's never going to hear the end of this. Never. When he's ninety years old and rolling around in his wheelchair, Gwaine will still be reminding him of this. And chances are, if Arthur's still capable of it, he'll still be getting hard at the thought of it. Damn it.

Leon, instead of leering, goes beet red and averts his eyes. He mumbles something and then walks away as quickly as possible. Poor, uptight, proper, very straight Leon. Arthur hopes against hope that Gwaine will leave too, but instead he drops his arm over Arthur's shoulders and gives him a shake.

"Course he has," Gwaine says. "Our Arthur here's a bit of a cockslut. That dong of yours must look like manna from heaven," Arthur rams his elbow into Gwaine's stomach hard enough to make him double over, coughing. Arthur promptly gives him a shove and Gwaine nearly topples over, maintaining his balance by sheer luck and natural athleticism. He turns around, laughing through his wheezing, and winks at Merlin. Arthur considers kicking him in the stones, but Gwaine makes the best decision of his life and takes his exit. He leaves a very awkward silence in his wake.

Arthur really wishes Gwaine wasn't right. But he is. Arthur is absolutely 100% a cockslut. It's not his fault he loves sucking guys off. He finds it fun. There's something challenging and powerful about reducing another man to a whimpering mess and forcing him into reckless abandon. And he might, might, have a bit of a thing with facials. Maybe. So having Merlin right there with the chip on his shoulder and his fat cock is almost too much temptation to resist. Arthur wants to have Merlin writhing and calling out his name and painting his face with cum.

"Good god, Arthur, will you just ask already?" Merlin snaps.

"What?" Arthur asks rather stupidly, still stuck on the image of Merlin coming on his face. And Arthur really doesn't have a lot of blood flow to his brain right now, so he's surprised he even made a single coherent word.

"You obviously want to suck my cock. Just make the offer and get it out of the way," Merlin says practically. Arthur flushes again, but there's really no denying it at this point. He's definitely been staring, his pyjamas are tented rather obviously in the front, and there may or may not be a tiny bit of drooling going on. Still, he does his best to retain at least a modicum of his pride.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin," he scoffs. "If I want to suck a cock, there are plenty of cocks offered up to me. I don't need to solicit people on the street." Merlin chuckles, sounding genuinely amused by Arthur's posturing.

"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug. Arthur curses himself and wonders how long until they're allowed back in the building because, really, he can't feel his feet and he's sure Merlin's about ready to turn into an icicle and he just really needs to get off one way or another and he can't do that out here. Arthur pouts for a moment, thinking. He weighs his pride against his lust. He's not entirely surprised with the results.

"Fine," he says. "I want to suck your cock."

"Ask nicely."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"You say you have plenty of offers for cocks to suck," Merlin points out. "Well, I have any number of people begging to get on their knees for me. I'm not exactly pressed for lovers."

"That's a bit of an antiquated term, don't you think?"

"Would you rather I call them cocksluts?"

Arthur all but growls in his throat. He is tired and irritated and horny and irritatingly hard at hearing such a filthy word come out of Merlin's lush mouth and, really, Merlin is not making this easy. Trust Merlin of all people to be difficult when someone is outright offering to give him oral sex. He is always painstakingly contrary.

Just as Arthur is steeling himself to actually open his mouth and ask nicely for the privilege and being allowed to service Merlin, the doors to the building are pushed open again and people start flooding back in. Merlin heaves a sigh of relief. He pulls off Arthur's jacket and holds it back out to him, but Arthur's so stunned once more by the sight of all that smooth, pale skin and the dusting of dark hair and Merlin's pink nipples all tight with cold that he almost forgets to take it from him.

"Wait," he says as soon as Merlin turns his back on him. And wow, he's got a nice ass too. He's got a nice everything. Jesus fuck, when did the little nerd get so fit? Merlin turns back with an infuriating smirk on his face, but Arthur's cock is twitching in his pants and he can't take it anymore. His pride gets shoved uncermoniously into the back of his brain and he makes himself say the words: "Would you please let me suck your cock?"

Merlin chuckles to himself, low and throaty and unfairly sexy. He nods casually, like it's no skin off his nose if Arthur does or doesn't. He jerks his head for Arthur to follow, and Arthur does without a second of hesitation. Merlin presses through the crowds of people and Arthur stays closer than is probably proper. He's just gotten the opportunity to have exactly what he wants and there is no way in hell he's missing out on it because they got separated on the stairs. And he doesn't know where Merlin's room is, so it's not like he can just show up there.

Merlin lives on the top floor of the building, two floors up from Arthur, and by the time they reach his room they've left the crowd behind. The warmth of being inside is delicious and Arthur's toes are tingling from the return of feeling. Merlin's shivering in intervals now and Arthur almost offers him his jacket again. Merlin pushes open the door to his room—good thing he left it unlocked, Arthur thinks, because those boxers certainly don't have any pockets so he doesn't have his keys on him—and stands back to gesture Arthur inside.

His room is more or less exactly like Arthur's. It's a mess except for the desk, which is spotlessly clean and meticulously organized. The bed is unmade and surrounded by piles of clothes, his bureau drawers are open with things only half-inside them, and there's a rack of scarves on the back of his closet door that Arthur wants to tear down and destroy now that he knows how long and sleek and tempting Merlin's neck is bare.

Merlin closes the door behind him and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks at Arthur for a moment, eyes narrowed, analyzing and calculating.

"So how do you want to do this?" he asks. Arthur doesn't quite understand the question and it must show on his face because Merlin rolls his eyes. "I mean, what are you looking for?" he says. "Do you just want to suck my cock? Do you want foreplay and snogging? Do you have kinks you want catered to or something? What is it you want out of this?"

"Oh. Um." Arthur will take anything he can get, really. The longer he looks at Merlin, the more he wants him. He wants to kiss those red, wet lips. He wants to mark up that long, white neck of his. He wants to tease his nipples and see how sensitive they are. He wants Merlin's cock in his mouth, in his arse, in any hole he can manage to get it in. "Whatever you're willing to do," he settles on.

Merlin looks at him for a moment longer, considering. Then he strides forward and takes Arthur by the back of the neck. He pulls Arthur close and kisses him thoroughly. Arthur gasps into Merlin's mouth and all but melts against him. Normally, at this point in any rendezvous, Arthur would be the one in control. But when Arthur's this fucking hard—this close—he gets needy and pliant, he always does. So he grasps at Merlin a little desperately and opens to him, lets Merlin lick languidly into his mouth and claim the territory for his own. Merlin threads fingers into his hair and pulls and Arthur gasps around Merlin's tongue. Merlin pulls back to kiss across Arthur's jaw and down his neck, sucking a bruise into his throat that he absolutely will not be able to hide in the morning.

The jacket has long since been dropped, and then Arthur's shirt gets pulled off over his head and tossed onto a pile of clothes where it will likely be lost forever, but Arthur hardly cares. Merlin takes him by the hips and steers him around. He sits down on the edge of his bed and pushes Arthur down to kneel between his spread thighs. Arthur's on a level with that wonderful cock now, hardening quickly in those too-small boxers. It's got to hurt to be confined like that, so Arthur reaches for him. He tugs at the elastic of the waistband and Merlin helpfully lifts his hips to let Arthur tug them down and off his legs and toss them carelessly over his shoulder. The cock springs free in all its glory and Arthur is legitimately salivating in the face of it.

It's a beautiful cock, it really is, bigger than any Arthur has had the pleasure of encountering but not quite so big as to cause real problems. It's long and thick and veiny and flushed dark. Arthur's own dick is painfully hard in his trousers, straining against the flannel and leaking precum, and he presses the heel of his hand against it to calm himself. Merlin takes Arthur by the hair again, tugging him forward.

Arthur wraps eager fingers around Merlin's thick shaft. It's just as hot as he expected it to be, silky smooth and burning against his skin. Arthur runs his hand along the length of him, squeezing just under the head. Merlin gives a hum of appreciation low in his throat. Arthur strokes him slowly, twisting his hand around the head, flicking his thumb over the slit to catch his precum. He stops to lick the taste of it from his fingers, then to drag his tongue over his palm to wet it. He takes Merlin in hand again, gliding easily over slick flesh now. He moves his other hand to cup Merlin's sack, rolling it in his palm and relishing the noise Merlin makes when he gives it a light pull. Merlin tightens his grip on Arthur's hair, hard enough to make Arthur hiss and his cock throb.

"Go on then," he says, his voice deep and husky, sending a thrill of pleasure down Arthur's spine. "I know you want it."

Oh yes, he very much does.

He lets Merlin drag him forward until the head of Merlin's cock can smear precum along his lips. Arthur licks it off, then flicks his tongue out to chase the taste. He laps up and down Merlin's cock, tracing the vein on the underside from base to tip, then he wraps his lips around the head and sucks hard. Merlin groans and barely manages to stop himself from bucking up into Arthur's mouth and choking him. Arthur's not entirely sure he would mind if Merlin did.

Arthur holds Merlin down anyway and sinks his mouth onto his cock. He works his way down inch by inch, feeling his lips stretch tight around the girth of it until it nudges the back of his throat and almost makes him gag. The he pulls back, hollowing out his cheeks in slow suction. He releases Merlin with an obscene pop.

"Fuck," Merlin breathes out and Arthur licks his lips. He dives back in, swallowing Merlin's cock until he can't reach any more of it. He wraps his fingers around the remainder, stroking and twisting and squeezing. Merlin holds onto him, steering him, pushing him take him faster and deeper but he's never overly rough with it. Just a steady pressure to the back of his head or an insistent pulling at his hair that makes Arthur's dick throb.

Arthur looks up at Merlin as well as he can from his position, never stopping from his feast. Merlin has leaned back, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching down with his other hand to guide Arthur's head. His eyes are glazed and hooded, his lips bitten and wet and hanging open around a steady flow of moans and delicious noises. There's a blush spreading over his cheeks, stretching all the way down his neck and across his chest, which heaves and glistens with a light sheen of sweat. Merlin's stomach twitches under Arthur's restraining arm, fighting to jerk his hips upward and further into the tight, wet heat of Arthur's talented mouth.

"Fuck, Arthur!" Merlin says, heading dropping back for a moment until he can bring himself to hold it upright again. "Shit. Ah, fuck, Gwaine wasn't kidding. God, you really are desperate for it. Ah yes, ah. Yeah, just like that, fuck, Arthur."

Arthur pulls back, panting for breath. He noses along the underside of Merlin's cock, nuzzling back to lick at his sack, and Merlin groans again, biting out another curse.

"Merlin, Merlin," Arthur murmurs, his voice muffled against Merlin's skin. "God, oh, god it's so good. So good, shit." He wraps his lips around Merlin's dick again and sucks hard. This time he lets Merlin's hips buck wildly, lets Merlin push his cock deep enough to make him gag. He fights the reflex down, relaxing as much of his throat as he can manage and pressing forward, pressing down until the head of Merlin's thick cock is lodged inside. His throat spasms around the intrusion, but Merlin fists his hair and holds him in place.

"Fucking hell," he grits out, his whole body tense with the strain of keeping still, of not fucking Arthur's throat until he choked on it. "Jesus fuck, Arthur. God, look at you." He lets go of Arthur's hair in favor of tracing his fingers along Arthur's lips, stretched tight and sore around his shaft. "So pretty. So fucking hot, Christ, Arthur. Fucking cumslut, so hungry for it."

Arthur pulls off, feeling lightheaded as he sucks down huge gulps of much-needed air. As soon as he can, he engulfs Merlin again, taking down as deep as he possibly can. His eyes prick with tears and his chin is wet with spit, but he doesn't care, he really doesn't, it's just so fucking good. His head is spinning and his balls are painfully tight and he wants Merlin's cum so bad he's convinced he might actually die without it.

"Shit, shit, Arthur, fuck, Arthur, I'm close," Merlin pants. "Jesus Christ, Arthur, I'm gonna come, fuck, yes, oh God."

"Yes," Arthur gasps, desperate. He gives the head of Merlin's cock one more such, then sits back on his heels. He strips it hard and fast, working him over as fast as possible. "Yes, yes, yes, oh fuck, please, Merlin. Come on me, Merlin, please, come on my face, just do it, please."

Merlin shouts Arthur's name as his dick throbs in Arthur's hand. Arthur opens his mouth wide and closes his eyes. The first splash of Merlin's release across his lips is all it takes for Arthur's orgasm to hit him with the force of a lorry. He sees white behind his closed eyelids and the next thing he's aware of is having his face pressed against the soft skin of Merlin's inner thigh and Merlin's long fingers petting his hair softly. No one has ever done that for him before and now he can't imagine why because it's incredibly soothing. He doesn't have the energy to move his limbs, but he hopes he at least won't embarrass himself by falling asleep like this.

After a few minutes of cool-down, Merlin sits up. Strong hands push Arthur upright and he manages to stay there on his own. He must look really blissed out because Merlin chuckles and actually leans down to press a kiss in Arthur's hair. Arthur looks up at him with something close to wonder, though that might be the post-coital haze making everything seem extra-spectacular. But he's sure he's not mistaking the way Merlin is looking downright fond.

Merlin pats his hair once more, then disappears through the door to the bathroom. Arthur's so drained and so thoroughly sated that he sways a bit. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, and then there's a warm wet cloth on his cheek. Merlin cleans him up gently and Arthur's surprised by how much he enjoys the feeling of being cared for. He's a little disappointed when Merlin's warm presence disappears again. He cracks his eyes open to see Merlin rummaging around in one of the drawers of his bureau. He comes up with a pair of flannel pyjama trousers, which he tosses at Arthur.

"Here," he says. "You can borrow these for now. They might be a bit small on you, but they'll get you back to your room." Arthur nods his thanks and struggles onto his feet and Merlin hands him the washcloth. Merlin turns around and starts to tidy up his drawers, probably just to give Arthur some semblance of privacy, which Arthur appreciates now that the headiness of his lust is winding down and reason is kicking in again. Arthur strips out of his own trousers, now sticky with his release, wipes himself down as best he can, and pulls on Merlin's trousers. They are snug on him, but not uncomfortably so.

Merlin takes the washcloth from Arthur and goes to dispose of it. Arthur casts around until he finds his shirt, extricates it from the pile of laundry, and pulls it on. Once he gets it over his head, he sees Merlin leaning against the frame of the bathroom door, arms crossed and a small smile on his face. He's wearing another pair of boxers now, ones that don't seem too small for him.

He's still a little flushed, his hair is a mess of spikes and unruly curls, and he looks truly debauched in the most attractive way possible. He's giving Arthur with that narrow-eyed, analyzing look again, like the one he had given him right before he'd gone in for the kiss. Arthur waits, trying not to fidget. Merlin looks him up and down, bites his lip for a moment, then comes to stand directly in front of Arthur. Then slowly, very slowly and giving Arthur ample time to move away, he leans in and presses a kiss to Arthur's lips.

It couldn't be more different than the way they'd started the encounter. It's sweet, chaste, and over quickly. Merlin pulls away, meeting Arthur's eyes. Arthur looks back, a little stunned. Merlin seems to be waiting for Arthur to say something, but he can't quite think of words. Instead, he kisses Merlin again, just as soft and innocent. This time Merlin smiles when they separate, something bright and earnest. And Arthur might have a problem, because he has no doubt he could very quickly become addicted to those dimples.

"So what do we do now?" Merlin asks softly. Arthur shrugs.

"Whatever you want," he says, meaning it. Merlin bites his lip.

"Will you stop making fun of me in class?"

"Only if you stop wearing that pocket protector. Honestly, Merlin, you can't wear that thing in public and not expect to be mocked mercilessly," Arthur counters, quite reasonably. Merlin reaches out and pinches Arthur in the arm. Arthur yelps indignantly.

"That pocket protector protects my pockets," Merlin says haughtily, nose in the air. "I only have so many shirts, you know, and I can't afford to get ink stains all over them."

"If I offer to pay for all your dry cleaning, will you leave off the pocket protector?" Arthur asks, only half-joking. "I cannot be seen in public with you if you're wearing that thing. It's godawful."

"Are you intending to be seen with me in public now?" Merlin says.

"Perhaps." Merlin raises an eyebrow and Arthur revises his answer. "I mean, I'd kind of like to. Maybe, I mean, if you want to, that is." He closes his mouth before he can embarrass himself with further stammering. He doesn't usually do that, but then again, he doesn't usually cum in his pants and then have his lover-he almost laughs at himself for picking up Merlin's antiquated term-stroke his hair and kiss him on the head. Merlin seems to do everything a bit differently than he should. Merlin's smiling again, apparently endeared by his sudden inability to put together a coherent sentence.

"I'll take that as a yes," he says. "And since I made you ask earlier, I'll do the asking this time. Will you go out with me?"

Arthur bites his lip. He takes in the assured air Merlin has about him, the way he's completely comfortable standing before Arthur in his boxers, the way he's obviously expected Arthur to say yes. A smirk of his own works its own onto Arthur's face and Merlin's brow wrinkles a bit in confusion, and maybe a little bit of wariness.

"Ask nicely."

"What?"

"Turnaround is fair play, Merlin."

"You arse!" But he's laughing, swatting at Arthur's chest halfheartedly. Arthur catches Merlin's wrist and holds Merlin's hand against his chest, already feeling a growing warmth in his stomach at the sound of Merlin's laugh. Who cares if just a day or two ago he had been mocking Merlin's ears and calling him names and tripping when he walked by? The ears don't seem like nearly so much of a disadvantage when paired with how wide Merlin's smile stretches or how his eyes crinkle up in mirth. And if he can just get Merlin into clothes that fit him-and get rid of the damned pocket protector, he'll throw it down a garbage disposal if he has to-then no one would ever taunt Merlin for his smarts again. There's such a brightness to Merlin now that Arthur can hardly believe he's never seen it before. It's dazzling.

"Ask nicely," he insists, fighting his own grin and losing badly. Merlin rolls his eyes and lets out an extremely put-upon sigh.

"Fine, fine, if you insist on being petty," he says with an air of martyrdom that makes Arthur huff out another laugh. Then he kisses Arthur again, just quickly, more to get his attention than anything else. When he has Arthur looking at him squarely again, Merlin smiles genuinely.

"Arthur, would you please go out with me?" he asks.

"Yes, I think I will."

"You think?"

"That pocket protector's a deal breaker, Merlin. Seriously, I mean it."

The slap to the chest is surprisingly strong for someone of Merlin's stature, but the kiss that comes after means Arthur doesn't mind it so much.