Fic: Bass
Title: Bass
Author: oomnydevvotchka
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,872
Warnings: Slight drug use, cliches, unbetaed and unbritpicked
Summary: "It's a bit awkward, not to mention hot, dancing in such a tight crowd. Gwen's plastered against his left side, and he keeps accidentally brushing his arse against the guy behind him."
He doesn’t really know why he’s here. It’s the biggest partying weekend of the year at his uni, and Merlin is decidedly not the partying type. In fact, he dreads this weekend every year. Merlin, though he’s not exactly the quiet sort once you know him, likes to keep himself to himself. He has friends, sure, but he prefers having close relationships with a few people to having a ton of shallow friendships. He’s rather awkward around people he doesn’t know well.
Which is why it’s so unusual that he’s currently standing in the middle of a giant mob of people, waiting impatiently for a musician he’s never heard of to take the stage, at a concert that’s supposed to be the biggest event of the weekend.
Gwen, Merlin’s closest friend at uni, had texted him asking if he would come to the concert, and for some strange reason, he had said yes.
Ok, so the reasons weren’t really that strange. The fact that he only had a few close friends meant that he was alone much of the time - his friends tended to take their academics far more seriously than Merlin himself did, which meant that they were often too busy for him. Consequently, Merlin spent long hours trolling the internet in his room. It wore on him sometimes, the feeling that he should be more social, so he had jumped at the chance to spend some time with people who weren’t connected to him through a computer screen.
The concert’s in a field house, which is darkened, both to set the mood and to try and disguise the fact that the floor is a tennis court. What appears to be the entire population of the school and then some is packed unnecessarily close to the stage, upon which an overly excited DJ is opening, seemingly oblivious to the grumbles of the students waiting for the main act.
“Why do concerts even have opening acts? No one ever likes them.” Gwen asks. Merlin notes with amusement the fact that she’s still wearing the cheap, neon orange sunglasses that they’d given out at the door, despite the darkness of the room. (Merlin’s own pair are perched on his head).
“For the money, my dear Guinevere, the money!” Gwaine shouts, already dancing like the madman he is, despite the shitty music.
“Greedy.” Gwen says. Her nose wrinkles suddenly. “What is that smell?”
Merlin inhales deeply, a familiar pungent smell filling his nose.
“That would be marijuana, Gwen.” Merlin purposely uses the full name of the drug, fearing that sweet, straight-laced Gwen won’t be familiar with the common term.
Lancelot looks, if possible, even more disgusted than Gwen.
“How can they possibly get away with smoking that in here? It’s illegal, not to mention rank” he says. Personally, Merlin finds the kid eating a sandwich next to him much stranger than the various blunts being passed around, but he doesn’t say so, for fear of Lance’s Disappointed Looktm.
Instead, he a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smoke. Yeah, it’s risky as hell to smoke in the field house - besides the illegality, it seems like a good way for someone to get burned, in a crowd like this. Still, he can’t say he wouldn’t take a hit in the unlikely event that someone passes it to him. He doesn’t smoke at school, preferring to only take weed from people he trusts, but he misses being high, feeling relaxed and invincible, his typical awkwardness melting away with each puff. He feels like he can probably get a pretty decent contact high going from all the smoke that’s floating through the air though - he has a pretty low tolerance.
Up on the stage, the possible psychotic DJ takes a break from his manic grinning and fist pumping and finally announces the main act. Merlin joins the crowd in their roar, despite his conviction that he won’t actually like the music. Concerts like this aren’t for the music anyway, they’re for the dancing. Merlin doesn’t fancy himself a very good dancer, but he can already feel the THC pumping through his veins, relaxing him.
The main act takes the stage, and the music stars. It’s house music, bass-heavy and repetitive, and Merlin was right - he hates it. The light show that goes with the music, however, is fascinating. Bright yellow and hot pink flash over the crowd in turns, and Merlin feels himself get caught up in the rush. His hips start moving, almost against his will, and he’s soon given himself completely over to the music
It’s a bit awkward, not to mention hot, dancing in such a tight crowd. Gwen’s plastered against his left side, and he keeps accidentally brushing his arse against the guy behind him. Nevertheless, he keeps going, sure that no one really minds. After all, Gwen is his best friend, and he’s pretty much single-handedly keeping her upright against the press of the crowd. As for the guy behind him, it’s not like Merlin is actually grinding against him. Besides, if the guys has such a problem with it, he can damn well move - if he shifts just a bit to the left, he’ll be up against Gwen instead.
Although, Merlin muses as he tries to subtly see what the guy looks like, he kind of wishes there was actual grinding. The guy’s gorgeous, from what he can see - well built, blond, almost as tall as Merlin himself - and he’s never actually danced with someone like that before. He thinks he might like to try it. He’s not about to get his hopes up, though. There’s like a 90% chance or something that the guy’s completely straight.
He doesn’t know quite how it happens, lost as he is in the shitty dance beat, but the next thing Merlin knows, there’s a hand on his hip, pulling him back so he’s pressed flush up against the guy behind him. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder, and Blondie gives him a lazy smirk. A sudden flash of heat curls deep in Merlin’s belly, and he decides to hell with the consequences. He’s gonna dance with a hot guy.
He slowly restarts the motion of his hips, which had stopped in surprise when Blondie had touched him. Blondie responds immediately, grinding into Merlin and bringing his other large hand to Merlin’s unoccupied hip.
It’s blindingly good, this feeling. They’re perfectly in sync, and Merlin doesn’t feel as uncoordinated as he usually does. It’s as though his body is moving without any input from his brain.
Judging by Blondie’s reaction (moving his hands from Merlin’s hips to wrap tight around his waist), Merlin’s not nearly as pants at this as he thought. He smiles, and leans his head back against Blondie’s shoulder.
Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin can see the dumbfounded expression on Lancelot’s face, which is rather hilarious. He knows why Lance is giving him that look - it’s completely unlike Merlin to do something like this, rub against a complete stranger like an animal in heat. Merlin can’t bring himself to care though, and he just gives Lance a barely perceptible shrug, glad that it was he, and not Gwaine, that noticed them.
“GET IT, MERLIN!” Gwaine bellows, and Merlin’s entire body flushes. He should’ve known better than to even think that. Blondie’s only response is to chuckle lightly and murmur in Merlin’s ear.
“Merlin, huh? What’d you do to deserve a name like that?”
Merlin is reasonably sure that a statement like that should not make him start to harden in his trousers, but he can’t help it. Blondie may be a bit of a prat, but his voice is just as bloody gorgeous as the rest of him.
“And I suppose your name is so much better?” Merlin simply can’t help baiting this guy, even as he moves to suck a kiss at the side of Merlin’s neck.
“Clearly. I’m Arthur.” Blondie says, and Merlin absolutely cannot help the snort that escapes him.
“Arthur? God, you’re a British cliché, aren’t you? I bet you’re obsessed with football and use terms like ‘cheerio’.”
“How about less talking, Merlin? This shouting is making my head ache.” There’s a clear note of teasing in Arthur’s voice when he says this, which prevents Merlin from getting too upset at the demand. He brings his hands down to cover Arthur’s, which are resting comfortably on his stomach, and tilts his head to the side in a clear request for more kisses.
Arthur is just beginning to oblige when Merlin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text from Gwen, telling him she’ll be leaving in five minutes, and Merlin notes with shock that he’s been dancing with Arthur for nearly half an hour. It’s great of course, but Merlin’s legs are beginning to get tired, and he’s sticky with sweat. This is messing with his rhythm, and Merlin feels self-conscious for the first time since he started dancing with Arthur. He can’t smell or look very good right now, and Arthur’s probably only dancing with him because he’s drunk and horny. Merlin’s not the type of person that can do something like this without it meaning something. He texts Gwen back, telling her that he’ll go back to the dorms with her, and abruptly twists out of Arthur’s arms.
“I’m gonna go” he says, avoiding Arthur’s gaze and weaving his way through the crowd with difficulty.
He finally makes his way out of the field house, gulping a giant lungful of fresh, cool air. Being outside is a relief, but he feels even more disgusting now that he’s no longer in the crowd. Grimacing, he tries to run his fingers through his snarled hair and thanks God that night has fallen, and the few people milling around outside can’t get a good look at him. He pulls out his phone to ask Gwen where she is. A hand touches his shoulder and he whirls around, expecting Gwen, and instead coming face-to-face with Arthur.
Christ, he’s even more handsome when Merlin can see him properly, all big blue eyes, regal nose, and charmingly crooked teeth. Well, that confirms Merlin’s drunk and horny theory: no way would someone like Arthur settle for skinny, big-eared Merlin.
Arthur looks concerned though, and sober.
“Are you alright? You ran out of there pretty quickly.”
Merlin laughs, softly. Arthur’s definitely sober and apparently concerned for him. It rekindles the hope and arousal in Merlin’s stomach.
“I’m fine. My friend’s leaving, and it was getting to be too much in there, y’know?”
Arthur laughs too, and says “Yeah. You gonna make it home alright?”
Merlin gives him an odd look. “I literally live right across the street, I haven’t been drinking, and I’m going home with Gwen. I think I can manage it.”
“Is Gwen the girl who was dancing next to you?”
“Yes.” Merlin’s confused by the small talk. He spots Gwen over Arthur’s shoulder.
“There’s Gwen. I should be going.”
“Wait!” Merlin turns around at Arthur’s shout, raising an expectant eyebrow.
Arthur looks flustered, but he soldiers on. “Could I have your number?”
Merlin feels a slow smile spreading across his face. “Of course.”
-END
Author: oomnydevvotchka
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,872
Warnings: Slight drug use, cliches, unbetaed and unbritpicked
Summary: "It's a bit awkward, not to mention hot, dancing in such a tight crowd. Gwen's plastered against his left side, and he keeps accidentally brushing his arse against the guy behind him."
He doesn’t really know why he’s here. It’s the biggest partying weekend of the year at his uni, and Merlin is decidedly not the partying type. In fact, he dreads this weekend every year. Merlin, though he’s not exactly the quiet sort once you know him, likes to keep himself to himself. He has friends, sure, but he prefers having close relationships with a few people to having a ton of shallow friendships. He’s rather awkward around people he doesn’t know well.
Which is why it’s so unusual that he’s currently standing in the middle of a giant mob of people, waiting impatiently for a musician he’s never heard of to take the stage, at a concert that’s supposed to be the biggest event of the weekend.
Gwen, Merlin’s closest friend at uni, had texted him asking if he would come to the concert, and for some strange reason, he had said yes.
Ok, so the reasons weren’t really that strange. The fact that he only had a few close friends meant that he was alone much of the time - his friends tended to take their academics far more seriously than Merlin himself did, which meant that they were often too busy for him. Consequently, Merlin spent long hours trolling the internet in his room. It wore on him sometimes, the feeling that he should be more social, so he had jumped at the chance to spend some time with people who weren’t connected to him through a computer screen.
The concert’s in a field house, which is darkened, both to set the mood and to try and disguise the fact that the floor is a tennis court. What appears to be the entire population of the school and then some is packed unnecessarily close to the stage, upon which an overly excited DJ is opening, seemingly oblivious to the grumbles of the students waiting for the main act.
“Why do concerts even have opening acts? No one ever likes them.” Gwen asks. Merlin notes with amusement the fact that she’s still wearing the cheap, neon orange sunglasses that they’d given out at the door, despite the darkness of the room. (Merlin’s own pair are perched on his head).
“For the money, my dear Guinevere, the money!” Gwaine shouts, already dancing like the madman he is, despite the shitty music.
“Greedy.” Gwen says. Her nose wrinkles suddenly. “What is that smell?”
Merlin inhales deeply, a familiar pungent smell filling his nose.
“That would be marijuana, Gwen.” Merlin purposely uses the full name of the drug, fearing that sweet, straight-laced Gwen won’t be familiar with the common term.
Lancelot looks, if possible, even more disgusted than Gwen.
“How can they possibly get away with smoking that in here? It’s illegal, not to mention rank” he says. Personally, Merlin finds the kid eating a sandwich next to him much stranger than the various blunts being passed around, but he doesn’t say so, for fear of Lance’s Disappointed Looktm.
Instead, he a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smoke. Yeah, it’s risky as hell to smoke in the field house - besides the illegality, it seems like a good way for someone to get burned, in a crowd like this. Still, he can’t say he wouldn’t take a hit in the unlikely event that someone passes it to him. He doesn’t smoke at school, preferring to only take weed from people he trusts, but he misses being high, feeling relaxed and invincible, his typical awkwardness melting away with each puff. He feels like he can probably get a pretty decent contact high going from all the smoke that’s floating through the air though - he has a pretty low tolerance.
Up on the stage, the possible psychotic DJ takes a break from his manic grinning and fist pumping and finally announces the main act. Merlin joins the crowd in their roar, despite his conviction that he won’t actually like the music. Concerts like this aren’t for the music anyway, they’re for the dancing. Merlin doesn’t fancy himself a very good dancer, but he can already feel the THC pumping through his veins, relaxing him.
The main act takes the stage, and the music stars. It’s house music, bass-heavy and repetitive, and Merlin was right - he hates it. The light show that goes with the music, however, is fascinating. Bright yellow and hot pink flash over the crowd in turns, and Merlin feels himself get caught up in the rush. His hips start moving, almost against his will, and he’s soon given himself completely over to the music
It’s a bit awkward, not to mention hot, dancing in such a tight crowd. Gwen’s plastered against his left side, and he keeps accidentally brushing his arse against the guy behind him. Nevertheless, he keeps going, sure that no one really minds. After all, Gwen is his best friend, and he’s pretty much single-handedly keeping her upright against the press of the crowd. As for the guy behind him, it’s not like Merlin is actually grinding against him. Besides, if the guys has such a problem with it, he can damn well move - if he shifts just a bit to the left, he’ll be up against Gwen instead.
Although, Merlin muses as he tries to subtly see what the guy looks like, he kind of wishes there was actual grinding. The guy’s gorgeous, from what he can see - well built, blond, almost as tall as Merlin himself - and he’s never actually danced with someone like that before. He thinks he might like to try it. He’s not about to get his hopes up, though. There’s like a 90% chance or something that the guy’s completely straight.
He doesn’t know quite how it happens, lost as he is in the shitty dance beat, but the next thing Merlin knows, there’s a hand on his hip, pulling him back so he’s pressed flush up against the guy behind him. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder, and Blondie gives him a lazy smirk. A sudden flash of heat curls deep in Merlin’s belly, and he decides to hell with the consequences. He’s gonna dance with a hot guy.
He slowly restarts the motion of his hips, which had stopped in surprise when Blondie had touched him. Blondie responds immediately, grinding into Merlin and bringing his other large hand to Merlin’s unoccupied hip.
It’s blindingly good, this feeling. They’re perfectly in sync, and Merlin doesn’t feel as uncoordinated as he usually does. It’s as though his body is moving without any input from his brain.
Judging by Blondie’s reaction (moving his hands from Merlin’s hips to wrap tight around his waist), Merlin’s not nearly as pants at this as he thought. He smiles, and leans his head back against Blondie’s shoulder.
Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin can see the dumbfounded expression on Lancelot’s face, which is rather hilarious. He knows why Lance is giving him that look - it’s completely unlike Merlin to do something like this, rub against a complete stranger like an animal in heat. Merlin can’t bring himself to care though, and he just gives Lance a barely perceptible shrug, glad that it was he, and not Gwaine, that noticed them.
“GET IT, MERLIN!” Gwaine bellows, and Merlin’s entire body flushes. He should’ve known better than to even think that. Blondie’s only response is to chuckle lightly and murmur in Merlin’s ear.
“Merlin, huh? What’d you do to deserve a name like that?”
Merlin is reasonably sure that a statement like that should not make him start to harden in his trousers, but he can’t help it. Blondie may be a bit of a prat, but his voice is just as bloody gorgeous as the rest of him.
“And I suppose your name is so much better?” Merlin simply can’t help baiting this guy, even as he moves to suck a kiss at the side of Merlin’s neck.
“Clearly. I’m Arthur.” Blondie says, and Merlin absolutely cannot help the snort that escapes him.
“Arthur? God, you’re a British cliché, aren’t you? I bet you’re obsessed with football and use terms like ‘cheerio’.”
“How about less talking, Merlin? This shouting is making my head ache.” There’s a clear note of teasing in Arthur’s voice when he says this, which prevents Merlin from getting too upset at the demand. He brings his hands down to cover Arthur’s, which are resting comfortably on his stomach, and tilts his head to the side in a clear request for more kisses.
Arthur is just beginning to oblige when Merlin’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text from Gwen, telling him she’ll be leaving in five minutes, and Merlin notes with shock that he’s been dancing with Arthur for nearly half an hour. It’s great of course, but Merlin’s legs are beginning to get tired, and he’s sticky with sweat. This is messing with his rhythm, and Merlin feels self-conscious for the first time since he started dancing with Arthur. He can’t smell or look very good right now, and Arthur’s probably only dancing with him because he’s drunk and horny. Merlin’s not the type of person that can do something like this without it meaning something. He texts Gwen back, telling her that he’ll go back to the dorms with her, and abruptly twists out of Arthur’s arms.
“I’m gonna go” he says, avoiding Arthur’s gaze and weaving his way through the crowd with difficulty.
He finally makes his way out of the field house, gulping a giant lungful of fresh, cool air. Being outside is a relief, but he feels even more disgusting now that he’s no longer in the crowd. Grimacing, he tries to run his fingers through his snarled hair and thanks God that night has fallen, and the few people milling around outside can’t get a good look at him. He pulls out his phone to ask Gwen where she is. A hand touches his shoulder and he whirls around, expecting Gwen, and instead coming face-to-face with Arthur.
Christ, he’s even more handsome when Merlin can see him properly, all big blue eyes, regal nose, and charmingly crooked teeth. Well, that confirms Merlin’s drunk and horny theory: no way would someone like Arthur settle for skinny, big-eared Merlin.
Arthur looks concerned though, and sober.
“Are you alright? You ran out of there pretty quickly.”
Merlin laughs, softly. Arthur’s definitely sober and apparently concerned for him. It rekindles the hope and arousal in Merlin’s stomach.
“I’m fine. My friend’s leaving, and it was getting to be too much in there, y’know?”
Arthur laughs too, and says “Yeah. You gonna make it home alright?”
Merlin gives him an odd look. “I literally live right across the street, I haven’t been drinking, and I’m going home with Gwen. I think I can manage it.”
“Is Gwen the girl who was dancing next to you?”
“Yes.” Merlin’s confused by the small talk. He spots Gwen over Arthur’s shoulder.
“There’s Gwen. I should be going.”
“Wait!” Merlin turns around at Arthur’s shout, raising an expectant eyebrow.
Arthur looks flustered, but he soldiers on. “Could I have your number?”
Merlin feels a slow smile spreading across his face. “Of course.”
-END