{fic} Unicorn Horns and Puppy Dog Tails (R) Merlin: M/A
Title: Unicorn Horns and Puppy Dog Tails
Author:
faynia
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1200 words
Summary: There were some things about Merlin that Arthur knew he had better not mention. Things like the way Merlin's lips quirk at the corner when he's trying to conceal his amusement, his mother's rather bland cooking, and the Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper he got when he was eight and for some unholy reason refused to destroy when his testicles dropped.
A/N: Because chibirhm said some things over here on hermette's post.
There were some things about Merlin that Arthur knew he had better not mention. The way his lips quirk at the corner when he's trying to carefully conceal his amusement, his mother's rather bland cooking, and the Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper he got when he was eight and for some unholy reason refused to destroy when his testicles dropped.
Arthur has a list with another half-dozen or more strange quirks Merlin has, but the only one that mattered to Arthur was the unforgivable trapper keeper. It was pink. It had rainbow stickers. And worst still, it had to merrily dancing unicorns blissfully unaware of the commotion they created in Arthur's mind. Merlin took it out whenever he became bored during a lecture which appeared to be every thirty seconds. Out it would come, a fresh sheet of paper to follow and a lurid orange gel pen that Arthur swore had been banned from school premise in the late 90s.
Merlin would spend an intense four minutes scribbling something on the fresh sheet of paper, outline it in a bloody heart (and how Arthur came to determine this was not up for discussion) and then fold it neatly, stick it in a folder with an overly enthused blue and purple puppy dog and then the whole catastrophe would vanish into his canvas bag.
Only this time it didn't. It didn't. Either Merlin had been in a rush or had deliberately shoved it under his chair, not that Arthur was giving Merlin's motives much consideration, but after two damn long years of trying to teach the moron how to properly cite Shakespeare, he thought it was well within his rights as Merlin's mentor and teacher to make sure there wasn't anything...unseemly happening here.
He cringed at the loud rip when he tore open the Velcro buckle and flipped open the cover. He hadn't been aware of how disgustingly pink the whole thing was, but in person it was, if possible, worse.
The pages were torn and hastily bound into the three ring binder and each was covered in an equally loud color ink. His eyes skimmed over the poorly taken notes, something Arthur didn't relish discussing with Hunith a fourth time, and then stopped on the first doodle.
"Oh for God's-Merlin, you little buffoon." Arthur ripped the first page by accident. The pink heart tearing directly between their names quite poetically, Arthur determined when he went back to his desk for a bit of sellotape to fix it as best he could. Merlin was eighteen. Eighteen and ridiculous and obviously stuck in the body of a ten year old girl.
Arthur did not spend an inordinate amount of time lecturing behind Merlin's back to watch the bunch and roll of his shoulders as he tried to hide what amount to...and now Arthur was slowly counting...nearly 60 pages of doodle hearts and love notes.
Sixty pages of the same phrase repeating itself ad nauseam until Arthur began to feel literally nauseous trying to read them all. He clutched the edge of the desk, fighting to exhale when it hurt to inhale. This had to stop. Merlin couldn't be doing this. It went beyond--Beyond ANYTHING Arthur had ever entertained in his darker hours and this was--Arthur grabbed a fistful of the loose-leaf paper and crumpled it. Tomorrow morning he would confront Merlin about this and explain to him just why Arthur could not do this. This being how did Merlin eloquently put it? 'Shove him into the whiteboard and-' No, Arthur couldn't do any of that because he was a professional, damn it. And Merlin may be well beyond the age of consent and only seven years younger, but God. Arthur liked his job most days. Most days he didn't want to beat his students over the head with Chaucer. Most days he didn't even fantasize about Merlin's sweet little bo--No. Most days Merlin didn't even come to class. Merlin was the worst delinquent Arthur had ever had the misfortune to teach and now he had to wonder if Merlin had ever cut class to go use the loo to-No.
No. He was not thinking about it.
“Mr. Pendragon. Uh-Have you...”
Buggering fu- Arthur closed his eyes tightly and counted slowly back from one million though he only made it down to 999,989 before he forced himself to give up. “Emrys, you’re supposed to be in the library.”
Merlin’s trainers scuffled along the floor as he inched into the room. Arthur’s fist tightened around the wad of paper in his hand as he waited for the- “I left my-oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Arthur stepped back from Merlin’s desk and gestured at the mess on it. “Care to explain?”
“You went through my--Shit!” Merlin rushed forward, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide in panic and slow-building rage. Arthur carefully rained down the pages he’d stolen over Merlin’s frantically moving hands and waited. Waited as Merlin’s motions still with each fluttering page and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed over each silent swallow. “You really don’t want to be doing that.”
“I can’t see why not.”
Merlin turned and his lips pursed in what Arthur assumed was meant to be a threatening expression. Of course, Arthur didn’t make it a habit to understand his students various threatening facial expression or the way it made their blue eyes go dark and forced his attention to the sharp cut of his cheekbones. Their cheekbones. Not even cheekbones. A hand on his shoulder stilled his racing thoughts.
“I can make you regret ever coming to work here.” Merlin pushed Arthur back into a chair, which Arthur did not gratefully collapse onto. It left him vulnerable and without easy escape. Merlin’s face lightened considerably and Arthur could only guess what glimmer of emotion Arthur had let slip through. His lips quirked even as his eyebrows drew inward. “You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?”
“I’m doing no such thing,” Arthur protested, ignoring Merlin’s hands at his throat and the gradual loosening of his tie.
“Your trousers say otherwise, Mr. Pendragon.” Merlin slid his knee in between Arthur’s thighs and leaned forward until his nose brushed Arthur’s cheek. “Never thought of this before.”
Arthur cleared his throat and finally moved his hands to put space between him and Merlin’s insistent fingers. “Mr. Emrys.”
“Don’t think so. Not this time. You want this as much as me.” Merlin paused long enough to get the tie over Arthur’s head and dangle it off his fingers. “Afraid?”
Arthur blew out a sharp breath in frustration. “No. Of course I’m not.”
“That’s good.” Merlin leered in a rather outstanding way that had Arthur arching into the slight pressure without even realizing it. “You should relax more often, you know. I’m really good at this.”
And as it turned out, Merlin rather was.
This entry was originally posted at http://faynia.dreamwidth.org/268270.html. Please comment there using OpenID. (comments:
)
Author:
faynia
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1200 words
Summary: There were some things about Merlin that Arthur knew he had better not mention. Things like the way Merlin's lips quirk at the corner when he's trying to conceal his amusement, his mother's rather bland cooking, and the Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper he got when he was eight and for some unholy reason refused to destroy when his testicles dropped.
A/N: Because chibirhm said some things over here on hermette's post.
There were some things about Merlin that Arthur knew he had better not mention. The way his lips quirk at the corner when he's trying to carefully conceal his amusement, his mother's rather bland cooking, and the Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper he got when he was eight and for some unholy reason refused to destroy when his testicles dropped.
Arthur has a list with another half-dozen or more strange quirks Merlin has, but the only one that mattered to Arthur was the unforgivable trapper keeper. It was pink. It had rainbow stickers. And worst still, it had to merrily dancing unicorns blissfully unaware of the commotion they created in Arthur's mind. Merlin took it out whenever he became bored during a lecture which appeared to be every thirty seconds. Out it would come, a fresh sheet of paper to follow and a lurid orange gel pen that Arthur swore had been banned from school premise in the late 90s.
Merlin would spend an intense four minutes scribbling something on the fresh sheet of paper, outline it in a bloody heart (and how Arthur came to determine this was not up for discussion) and then fold it neatly, stick it in a folder with an overly enthused blue and purple puppy dog and then the whole catastrophe would vanish into his canvas bag.
Only this time it didn't. It didn't. Either Merlin had been in a rush or had deliberately shoved it under his chair, not that Arthur was giving Merlin's motives much consideration, but after two damn long years of trying to teach the moron how to properly cite Shakespeare, he thought it was well within his rights as Merlin's mentor and teacher to make sure there wasn't anything...unseemly happening here.
He cringed at the loud rip when he tore open the Velcro buckle and flipped open the cover. He hadn't been aware of how disgustingly pink the whole thing was, but in person it was, if possible, worse.
The pages were torn and hastily bound into the three ring binder and each was covered in an equally loud color ink. His eyes skimmed over the poorly taken notes, something Arthur didn't relish discussing with Hunith a fourth time, and then stopped on the first doodle.
"Oh for God's-Merlin, you little buffoon." Arthur ripped the first page by accident. The pink heart tearing directly between their names quite poetically, Arthur determined when he went back to his desk for a bit of sellotape to fix it as best he could. Merlin was eighteen. Eighteen and ridiculous and obviously stuck in the body of a ten year old girl.
Arthur did not spend an inordinate amount of time lecturing behind Merlin's back to watch the bunch and roll of his shoulders as he tried to hide what amount to...and now Arthur was slowly counting...nearly 60 pages of doodle hearts and love notes.
Sixty pages of the same phrase repeating itself ad nauseam until Arthur began to feel literally nauseous trying to read them all. He clutched the edge of the desk, fighting to exhale when it hurt to inhale. This had to stop. Merlin couldn't be doing this. It went beyond--Beyond ANYTHING Arthur had ever entertained in his darker hours and this was--Arthur grabbed a fistful of the loose-leaf paper and crumpled it. Tomorrow morning he would confront Merlin about this and explain to him just why Arthur could not do this. This being how did Merlin eloquently put it? 'Shove him into the whiteboard and-' No, Arthur couldn't do any of that because he was a professional, damn it. And Merlin may be well beyond the age of consent and only seven years younger, but God. Arthur liked his job most days. Most days he didn't want to beat his students over the head with Chaucer. Most days he didn't even fantasize about Merlin's sweet little bo--No. Most days Merlin didn't even come to class. Merlin was the worst delinquent Arthur had ever had the misfortune to teach and now he had to wonder if Merlin had ever cut class to go use the loo to-No.
No. He was not thinking about it.
“Mr. Pendragon. Uh-Have you...”
Buggering fu- Arthur closed his eyes tightly and counted slowly back from one million though he only made it down to 999,989 before he forced himself to give up. “Emrys, you’re supposed to be in the library.”
Merlin’s trainers scuffled along the floor as he inched into the room. Arthur’s fist tightened around the wad of paper in his hand as he waited for the- “I left my-oh.”
“Yes, oh.” Arthur stepped back from Merlin’s desk and gestured at the mess on it. “Care to explain?”
“You went through my--Shit!” Merlin rushed forward, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide in panic and slow-building rage. Arthur carefully rained down the pages he’d stolen over Merlin’s frantically moving hands and waited. Waited as Merlin’s motions still with each fluttering page and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed over each silent swallow. “You really don’t want to be doing that.”
“I can’t see why not.”
Merlin turned and his lips pursed in what Arthur assumed was meant to be a threatening expression. Of course, Arthur didn’t make it a habit to understand his students various threatening facial expression or the way it made their blue eyes go dark and forced his attention to the sharp cut of his cheekbones. Their cheekbones. Not even cheekbones. A hand on his shoulder stilled his racing thoughts.
“I can make you regret ever coming to work here.” Merlin pushed Arthur back into a chair, which Arthur did not gratefully collapse onto. It left him vulnerable and without easy escape. Merlin’s face lightened considerably and Arthur could only guess what glimmer of emotion Arthur had let slip through. His lips quirked even as his eyebrows drew inward. “You’re really getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?”
“I’m doing no such thing,” Arthur protested, ignoring Merlin’s hands at his throat and the gradual loosening of his tie.
“Your trousers say otherwise, Mr. Pendragon.” Merlin slid his knee in between Arthur’s thighs and leaned forward until his nose brushed Arthur’s cheek. “Never thought of this before.”
Arthur cleared his throat and finally moved his hands to put space between him and Merlin’s insistent fingers. “Mr. Emrys.”
“Don’t think so. Not this time. You want this as much as me.” Merlin paused long enough to get the tie over Arthur’s head and dangle it off his fingers. “Afraid?”
Arthur blew out a sharp breath in frustration. “No. Of course I’m not.”
“That’s good.” Merlin leered in a rather outstanding way that had Arthur arching into the slight pressure without even realizing it. “You should relax more often, you know. I’m really good at this.”
And as it turned out, Merlin rather was.
This entry was originally posted at http://faynia.dreamwidth.org/268270.html. Please comment there using OpenID. (comments:
)