I can only make believe (You and Me)

Generally speaking, Arthur listens to Merlin. For all that his best friend is an idiot, he's often right about people – he usually knows what's going on long before the rest of them catch up; a "funny feeling", he calls it. A bullshit detector, if you will.

And yet, with this new kid, he just can't do it.

Merlin can't give Arthur a single good reason why he should stay way from young Mordred, and he's just a freshman, what on earth could he do? That he had made it into the team showed good promise, and if Arthur was the captain, shouldn't he try and guide all of his players? Why not Mordred?

Gwen, his lovely stand-in girlfriend of three years, agreed with him. Mordred was like a puppy, eager to follow them and passionate; in a way that not many people were by the end of High School. The workload and early on-set nostalgia always made for long, wistful afternoons and Mordred's eagerness was a breath of fresh air.

Merlin was probably just jealous.

Which was really funny, since Mordred looked much like Merlin had when Arthur met him, back in the first day of Junior High. Arthur had been surrounded by children he had attended primary school with; his very own gang of followers and it had been too easy to tease and bully the gangly, soft looking boy. He would never have expected him to answer back, but nowadays, Arthur can't even imagine him doing anything else.

Mordred was as passionate as Merlin had been – and in him Arthur could see his best friend anew; a chance of being a better person, of doing all the things he should have done for Merlin and couldn't, back then – that were too late to do now. He had been too spoiled, too stubborn, too blind to the stupidity of his behaviour.

He wouldn't fail Mordred like that.

And if Merlin couldn't see that he did it for him, too, well… Maybe he wasn't as perceptive as they had all thought.

Mordred couldn't have missed Arthur if he tried – glorious and golden; ruling the school without even trying. All eyes were for him; and Mordred was no different. He couldn't stop swooning if he tried; and he didn't even try too hard.

Sure, he knew Merlin resented him for the attention. Everyone knew that Mordred had been transferred from his previous school after a rather steamy encounter with a local homophobic bully; but Arthur didn't seem to mind – or to even fully realize what that entailed – but Merlin certainly did and didn't seem too amused by it. Mordred could've understood if Merlin had been some sort of homophobe; but he knew it wasn't the case – he might be deep in the closet at school, but he was quite well-known in some circles.

It takes one to know one.

And Mordred wanted nothing more but for Merlin to accept him; to have someone who truly understood everything he was. Maybe it was jealousness, but Mordred could do nothing about it, even if a huge part of him couldn't help but pining after Merlin, the glorious, gorgeous, famous Merlin, with whom he had dreamed since he first had started noticing boys; the star of most of his wanks. But it seemed that whatever Mordred did, Merlin would find fault with it on principle, the harshest wake up call. It was Arthur that looked for him, that wanted his company and Mordred would be lying if he said he didn't love the attention or the way he was well-liked.

How would anyone say no to Arthur and his glorious smiles? The whole world came to a halt when he touched Mordred's hand, and there was little he could do to stop it. He felt bad – truly, honestly bad – that would cause a rift between him and Merlin, but how could he stop it? It was stronger than him, a pull that could not be denied any more than Merlin's feelings could.

So when Arthur told Mordred he'd be tutoring him on how to tackle properly; even knowing it was idiotic and self-destructive, Mordred went.

So when Arthur rolled him over, pinning his body under him after a solid hour of tackling, he allowed it.

So when Arthur leaned down and kissed him hard, he kissed back.

(In a perfect world, he wouldn't have to chose).