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The summer was always too short, but the one before their senior year seemed to fly. Too soon they were sitting pressed together shoulder to knee on the steps by the track watching the football team practice, enjoying the late August sun.
“Is it just me or is the JV team particularly puny this year?” Merlin dragged his charcoal pencil across his sketchbook and squinted towards the field, studying the way the garish gold mesh practice jerseys moved as the players did drills.
Gwen chewed her pencil, the notebook on her knee jiggling as she bounced her leg up and down. “I think that’s a symptom of senioritis. The halls seem shorter, the classes seem longer, and the freshmen look like munchkins.” She pointed with her eraser, tilting her head slightly, her curly hair brushing over Merlin’s shoulder. “Focus, please. I want every issue of The Decree to be perfect this year, and it starts with an excellent fall sports preview.”
Merlin tried to pay attention to the guys on the field, but he just couldn’t find anything interesting about a bunch of tiny, padded boys trying to push weird metal things across a field. “I will be much more focused when it’s time to preview the soccer team, or the swim team. When do we get to do that?”
Gwen elbowed Merlin in the side and scribbled another note. “Lance comes back from camp next week. I only have to watch a few football practices and then he’ll take over again.”
“Think he’ll let me into the pool commons with him?” Merlin did his best lascivious grin but Gwen just rolled her eyes.
“Sweetie, that’s just creepy.”
“Whatever, at least tell me the varsity team is practicing today too?”
“Yes, Pervy McPerverson, Perceval and Gwaine and the rest will be out here in all their padded glory as soon as they’re done meeting with the new coach.”
Merlin perked up, his eyes already scanning over towards the door to the gym. “I do so like the pants that they wear.”
“Just remember the rule. No ogling my brother.”
Merlin gave her a mock-shocked expression, eyes comically wide, and placed his hand over his heart. “I promise that no matter how much hotter Elyan has gotten over the summer, or what favors the practice jerseys do for his well muscled biceps, I will not ogle your brother.”
Gwen jabbed her pencil lead into his thigh and Merlin held up his hands, palms out.
The JV team started trotting off the field and Merlin pushed to his feet. “Gotta pee before all the hotness happens.” He missed Gwen’s eye roll as he hopped down the steps and loped across the track, trailing behind the munchkins as they filed back into the school building.
He was cutting across the gym towards the bathrooms not in the locker rooms, because, ew, when he heard a muffled shout, and he turned to see one of the JV kids flat on his back on a blue mat against the wall, struggling to get to his feet. Just as he got his footing back a blond guy Merlin didn’t recognize grabbed him around the knees and knocked him back down.
“Hey,” Merlin shouted before thinking, crossing the linoleum floor with a squeak of sneaker soles, “what do you think you’re doing?”
The kid was getting to his feet, his eyes wide, scrabbling to grab his helmet from where he’d dropped it. The blond was turning to Merlin, hands on hips, and Merlin had a brief thought of “hello jawline” before the guy’s look of disbelief registered and Merlin crossed his arms. “Don’t you think you should save it for guys your own size?”
“Dude,” the JV kid piped up, looking between the two of them.
“You can hit the showers,” the blond said, tossing his head in an imperious gesture of dismissal, not taking his eyes off of Merlin.
Merlin snorted. “Wow, you are a piece of work.”
“Excuse me?” A muscle jumped in the guy’s jaw (seriously, did someone chisel that thing out of marble?) and he took a step closer to Merlin. Merlin was just opening his mouth to repeat himself when the varsity team started piling out of the locker room and Leon, the quarterback, slapped a clipboard and whistle against the blond guy’s chest.
“Here you go, coach.” Leon quirked an eyebrow at Merlin and Merlin’s hands dropped to his side.
“Coach,” he echoed, feeling his cheeks burn.
“Coach. Pendragon. I noticed that Ellis could use a little work on his landings when he got tackled low, so I thought I’d help him out.” The coach smirked, draping the string of his whistle around his neck.
“Help him out, of course.” Merlin laughed slightly, recovering from his shock. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”
The coach nodded, looking Merlin up and down. Merlin felt the flush creep down his neck and crossed his arms over his chest again. He felt distinctly scrawny in his baggy cargo shorts and threadbare tee shirt standing in front of the very broad, very well muscled Coach Pendragon. “You’re not on the team, are you?”
Merlin bristled at his tone and straightened his shoulders. “No.”
Coach Pendragon chuckled and tapped his clipboard against his hip. “I didn’t think so. You look too old for JV, but you’re definitely not fit for the varsity team either.”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed, his mouth falling open in shock. “That’s kind of a rude thing to say to a student, don’t you think?”
“And accusing a teacher of beating someone up isn’t rude?”
“You’re not a teacher, you’re just a coach!”
“Merlin!” He heard Gwaine shout from behind him. “Quit holding up Coach, we’re trying to practice out here.”
“Merlin.” Coach Pendragon’s smirk got wider.
“Yeah, that’s my name. Is there a problem with that?” Merlin felt grumpier the more the coach smirked, and only partially because it was a really sexy smirk.
“Nope, no problem. If you’ll excuse me, Merlin, I have a practice to get to.” Coach Pendragon coughed a little into one fist and sidestepped Merlin, calling out to Gwaine as he passed through the gym door. Merlin stood fuming a little before stalking off towards the bathroom.
“That took long enough, you totally missed Perceval helping Gwaine stretch,” Gwen started as Merlin plopped down next to her again and snatched up his charcoal stick. “What’s wrong?”
“I met the new coach, and he’s kind of a douche.” Merlin flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and looked towards the field, his eyes catching on Coach Pendragon’s hair and the way it reflected the sunlight before he dragged them away to watch Leon and Elyan throwing the ball back and forth.
“You mean that absolute vision in a red polo shirt and aviator sunglasses? The one with the jaw that could cut glass?” Gwen made a note on her pad and grinned up at Merlin.
“What would Lance say about that?” Merlin felt a little of the tension in his shoulders ease and he grinned back at Gwen.
“Lance is a god, he’d appreciate the same qualities in another man, I’m sure.”
Merlin shook his head and kept sketching, resolutely keeping his eyes away from Coach Pendragon, and definitely not noticing the way the sleeves of the polo shirt molded to his biceps.
***
The bell hadn’t even finished ringing at the end of calculus before Merlin was out of his seat, sweeping notebook, calculator and pencils into his bag and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He was just passing Dr. Gaius’s desk when the old man raised an eyebrow over his bifocals.
“Mr. Emrys, if I may?”
Merlin pulled up short, glancing longingly towards the rest of the students as they streamed into the hallway. “Dr. Gaius?”
“Mr. Emrys, Coach Pendragon came to talk to me this morning.”
“Gaius, I swear, I thought he was a new student or something, I had no idea … “
“Mr. Emrys, while your tales of bumbling idiocy have kept me entertained enough to postpone retirement until you graduate, you can save yourself a few minutes of stammering and floundering and let me finish.”
Merlin clamped his lips together and felt his face flush hot.
“Coach Pendragon came to talk to me this morning because he’s been looking over some of the varsity squad’s academic records from last year and he’s worried about their performance, particularly in mathematics. He has asked me to choose a tutor for the team as a pre-emptive strike, if you will.”
Merlin was used to the sense of impending doom that he felt near constantly when speaking to his math teacher, but he wasn’t used to hearing funeral dirges in the background. “And you’ve chosen me?”
“You are my best student, Mr. Emrys, naturally I chose you.”
“Naturally.” Merlin knew when not to argue, and resigned himself to his fate. “When do I start.”
“Your enthusiasm warms my heart. It is early enough in the semester that we were able to coordinate your study hall with the worst offenders’. For the rest of the team you’ll be able to work with them in groups while the JV team practices. You had better get on, Mr. Emrys, or you’ll miss the bell for your next class.”
The dirge swelled as Merlin trudged from the classroom.
***
“I just don’t get it. Or I don’t care, I haven’t decided yet.”
Merlin had so sighed so many times in one hour he was sure he’d hyperventilate before the bell. “Gwaine, I’m trying really hard not to stab you with my pencil, but it’s a near thing.”
Gwaine leaned his chair back on two legs, tossing his hair behind his shoulder in that casual way he had that was ridiculously hot and infuriating at the same time, thus summing up the essence of his whole being. “Merlin, I only need to rate a C- to stay on the team, and I was able to pull that off the past two years, so I’m not sure why this is even necessary.”
“For one, you pulled that off because you had me helping you complete your assignments which I do not have time to do this year. For two, your new coach,” and he really didn’t mean to sound like that was a dirty word, “isn’t going to be happy with a C-. So unless you want to warm the bench and watch someone else steal your glory you better pay attention.”
Gwaine rolled his eyes and brought the front two legs of his chair down to the floor with a thump. “You are a saint, Merlin, if saints were allowed to be gay, drink like fishes, and swear like sailors.”
Merlin clapped a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder and pointed at the textbook spread open in front of them. “Thank you. Focus.”
At the end of the hour Gwaine was actually started to pick up on some of what Merlin was not-so-patiently explaining to him repeatedly, but they both looked like they had been run over by semis.
“I hope you’re getting something out of this, Emrys, and please don’t make a dirty joke or say something awful about the pleasure of helping others, I don’t think I can handle it after all those equations.” Gwaine slung one strap of his backpack over his shoulder tiredly, shoving his hair away from his face.
Merlin smirked, gathering his things and getting slowly to his feet. “I think the pleasure of helping others is all your coach and Dr. Gaius had in mind.”
“That’s awful, and I sincerely apologize. Coach Pendragon is clearly a tyrant and should be banished from the school at once.”
Merlin gave a rueful laugh and followed Gwaine from the study room they were occupying in the library, keeping silent as they made their way through the stacks and out into the hall. Along the way Merlin replayed his one and only conversation with Coach Pendragon, including the derisive once over that his ill-fed and under-exercised body had received, and stopped Gwaine with a hand to his arm once the library doors had closed behind him.
“Gwaine, I’ve thought of a way you can repay me.”
“Oh here come the jokes. Merlin, you can save it, I may be irresistible to man, woman, and beast … “
“Please, you know it’s only beasts,” Merlin interrupted, pulling Gwaine to a halt before they emerged into a hallway where there were lockers, and thereby students, and the likelihood of being overheard and then ridiculed until graduation day if not after. “There’s something else you can do for me.”
Gwaine’s puzzled look melted into one of unchecked glee as Merlin explained, and he let out a laugh that could only be called a guffaw before agreeing to Merlin’s deal.
Which is how Merlin found himself in the school’s weight room at the end of the day, wearing his gym shorts and a threadbare tee shirt, his arms wobbling as he lifted a barbell over his head, Gwaine’s face above him upside and grinning like a loon.
“Your arms look like a baby deer’s legs right now, and I am loving every second of this.”
Merlin huffed and thought something very scathing at Gwaine, but didn’t have enough breath to curse him.
“Emrys, we will make you a man before the semester is over,” Gwaine crowed, and a few of the other players scattered around the room laughed.
Merlin lowered the barbell and raised it again, determined not to quiver quite so much this time, and reminded himself why he thought this was a good idea in the first place. He’d never cared much about being fit - he was going to be eighteen in four months, his metabolism was fast and he walked nearly everywhere, it’s not like he was that unhealthy. Something about the look on Coach Pendragon’s face, like he’d found him lacking, had rankled him enough to actually sweat. And he hated sweating.
It figured, of course, that Coach Pendragon would take that moment to enter the weight room, Elyan in tow, waving his hand emphatically and talking about “core strength” or some other nonsense, and Merlin could feel himself withering with mortification. He hadn’t thought that the coach would be there, but of course he’d be with the team while they worked out, that only made sense didn’t it, and he was so, so stupid.
The coach stopped when he saw Merlin, and seemed to just stop himself from falling out laughing. “What,” he started, actually sounded out of breath from the effort not to laugh, “is he doing here?”
Gwaine helped Merlin replace the barbell in its stand and tossed a towel onto his chest. “He asked for a personal trainer of sorts in exchange for his tutoring us in math, and I thought it was a fair trade.”
Coach Pendragon came over and slid his eyes from Merlin to the weights on the barbell and back, smirking. “Thinking about joining the team … “
“It’s Merlin,” Gwaine said, shoving at Merlin’s shoulder. “And I highly doubt it. Merlin’s more about the ogling and less about the playing.”
Coach Pendragon’s eyebrows shot up as Merlin felt his face heat even more, sweat dripping into his eyeballs.
“Oh, thanks Gwaine,” he panted, swiping face with the towel. “No, I’m not thinking about joining the team. Chasing a ball up and down a field doesn’t really appeal to me at all. All the running, not a fan.”
“Yes, well,” Coach Pendragon seemed distracted, shaking his head slightly. “Gwaine still needs to get a few reps in, so maybe you could spot him while you cool down.” He turned away and joined Elyan by the free weights, calling “Twenty minutes until drills, boys,” over his shoulder as he crossed the room.
Gwaine chuckled and started adding weight to the barbell. “I don’t know how you could possibly spot me when I lift as much as you weigh, but you might as well prop yourself up here and catch your breath. You did good today.”
Merlin scowled, but nodded his thanks, and hovered over Gwaine while he laid back on the bench and started to lift.
“You know, Merlin,” Gwaine said after his first ten lifts, not even out of breath, “your sudden fascination with weight lifting does seem a bit suspect.”
“Gwaine, I swear, just shut your mouth and do your stupid ‘reps’ or I swear I will - “
Gwaine chuckled, and then time seemed to stop as he lifted the barbell straight up over his chest. His elbows locked, or buckled, or his wrists went limp, or his hands slipped, Merlin didn’t know. But the barbell started descending in a way that could not be called controlled, and Gwaine had only time to make an “o” of surprise with his mouth before Merlin grabbed the bar, yanking it upwards and dropping it back on the stand with a massive clank.
The room was totally silent and still, other than Merlin’s gasping breaths, for what felt like a full minute. Then Gwaine scrambled to his feet, the rest of the players and Coach Pendragon rushing over.
“You alright?” The coach asked, peering into Gwaine’s face. Gwaine was staring at Merlin, who was feeling shaky with adrenaline and whatever else was coursing through him, the thing that had made him strong enough to lift the barbell like it was inflated, a thing he had only felt a few times in life that scared the crap out of him.
“I’m fine,” Gwaine brushed the coach off and pointed at Merlin, who went totally rigid. “How in the hell … ?”
“Must’ve been the adrenaline,” Coach Pendragon said, giving Merlin another once over that felt much less critical than the first had been. Merlin gave a shrug, hoping Gwaine would accept that explanation and stop giving him that look. Gwaine’s eyes narrowed but he softened his expression and came forward to clap Merlin on the shoulder.
“Thank god for that, because there’s no way you’d be able to lift that thing under your own power. Thanks, Merlin.”
Merlin shrugged again, still jittery, and patted Gwaine awkwardly on the arm. Coach Pendragon was still watching him, blue eyes bright and calculating.
“I think that’s enough of the weight room for the day, gentleman. Suit up, see you out on the field in five.” Coach Pendragon nodded once to Gwaine and gave Merlin another look, head tilted, before he turned to leave the room.
***
The story ended up being ridiculously overblown, as most things with Gwaine tended to get, and by the end of the week Gwaine had taken to dragging Merlin around with him and calling him his “lucky charm”. Merlin spent the entire day red-faced and had a slight headache from rolling his eyes, but Gwaine was still helping him in the weight room and he may be sore and slightly humiliated but Coach Pendragon had warmed up to him slightly and somehow that made it all worth it.
The next week Merlin rethought that stance when Coach Pendragon requested his presence in his office, and Merlin was perched on the edge of an uncomfortable plastic chair as the coach regarded him imperiously from across the desk.
“You seem to get along quite well with my players, Emrys, and a few of them tell me you’re pretty good at math.”
Merlin fought the urge to splutter, pretty good was a pretty big understatement, but he was too uncomfortable to want to argue. He clenched his hands together in his lap and nodded.
“I’ll get right to the point. I need a stats guy, the one that signed up this year is good with numbers but the team doesn’t like him, and I don’t need anyone around that my men don’t get along with. We need to be a team, all of us, down to the waterboy. Dr. Gaius has already agreed to find another tutor if you’re willing to take the position. It would,” Coach Pendragon seemed to struggle with the next words, as Merlin sat dumbstruck, vacillating between abject horror and extreme intrigue. “It would really help me out a lot,” he finally finished, the words coming out slightly rushed and in a tone of voice that suggested annoyance and not gratefulness.
“Um,” Merlin said, blinking his eyes.
“Gwaine nominated you specifically.” The coach seemed particularly rankled by this fact, which made no sense to Merlin, and again he couldn’t decide if he was pleased that Gwaine mentioned him or really, really pissed.
“You could work out with the team, since you seem so interested in it. They don’t seem to mind. And I might be able to arrange some extra credit with Dr. Gaius.” Coach Pendragon leaned back in his chair, looking as casual as Merlin did not feel, and spread his hands.
He was so unfortunately gorgeous, his blond hair sweeping across his forehead, that Merlin found himself saying “yes” before he could think anymore about it. A strange expression flitted across the coach’s face before he gave a quick smile, the muscle in his jaw jumping, and thanked Merlin, dismissing him from the office.
Merlin wiped his palms on his jeans as he left, on his way to either throttle Gwaine or hug him, he wasn’t sure.
***
The first time Coach Pendragon said, “Just call me Arthur, for god’s sake, you make Coach sound like a dirty word,” Merlin came to the realization that the reason he was always frustrated when he was around the co - when he was around Arthur was that he was basically head over fucking heels in love with him.
It started out as genuine frustration, and he still thought Arthur was kind of a prick sometimes, but after spending afternoons watching him work with the players, after standing next to him on the sidelines of their practice field and hearing him call encouragement to Gwaine or Elyan, after every short walk back to the locker room filled with their special brand of banter, and after what must’ve been the thirtieth time that Arthur nudged Merlin in some way with his elbow or shoulder, he’d figured out that underneath the pompous smirks and imperious hand gestures was a warm heart. And a really fantastic set of abs.
The day of homecoming was bright and blue and crisp, just the way Merlin liked his fall days. He spent the afternoon with Gwen, making sure the parade floats were as ostentatious as possible, and then riding shotgun in the cab of the truck towing the journalism float, watching the newsprint streamers in the rearview mirror and waving cheerily out the window as they made their way through the neighborhood and back to the stadium.
Merlin was flushed and grinning like a loon as he loped towards the bench and Arthur, and Arthur flashed a grin back as Merlin handed him his clipboard.
“Great parade,” Merlin said, pushing his hair off his forehead and looping the string of the stopwatch around his neck.
“Yes, there is something about homecoming, isn’t there?” Arthur’s eyes swung around the stadium, taking in the stream of fans with painted faces and cheap pom-poms filling the bleachers, the breeze ruffling his hair, glinting gold in the sunlight. Merlin’s mouth went dry.
“Are you going to the dance?”
Merlin swallowed and hoped his voice didn’t stick in his throat. “Yeah, Gwen’s making me. She even steamed my suit.”
Arthur had a wide range of expressions, and Merlin had come to know most of them (especially the one meaning he was incredibly annoyed) but every now and then something passed over his features that Merlin could not figure out. “I cannot wait to see that,” Arthur scoffed, his usual teasing smirk back in place.
“You’re going?”
“Mmm,” Arthur hummed, squinting across the field to watch his players stretching. “Chaperone. I’m thrilled.”
Merlin ducked his head and scribbled meaninglessly on his papers, images of Arthur in a suit flooding his brain and momentarily short-circuiting it.
“Ah well. I’ll at least be able to make sure none of my men do anything dishonorable.”
Arthur’s regal tone, which Merlin had found extremely odd at first and now found extremely endearing, brought him back to himself enough to actually do his job during the game, and if he took a little extra care tying his skinny tie or fixing his hair that night, he deliberately did not think about why.
The dance was in their gym, since the school only sprung for a fancy venue for prom. Merlin followed Gwen and Lancelot, looking like they’d just stepped out of a teen magazine, feeling hot and itchy in his suit, his eyes roving the dimly lit, overly streamered room for a familiar blond head and cut-stone jaw.
Arthur was hovering near the refreshment table, Ms. LeFay, the AP European History teacher, at his elbow wearing a floor length green satin gown that was making the group of sophomores hanging around her drool all over their shirts. Ms. LeFay was scanning the room with narrowed eyes, every now and then leaning over to whisper something in Arthur’s ear that would make one corner of his mouth quirk up.
Merlin’s heart dropped into his Converse, and he lost himself in the crowd at the edge of the dance floor, mentally insulting himself at the same time he stored the image of Arthur in a black three piece with a dark red shirt and tie to match away in his brain for later.
He was sulking near the DJ, watching Gwaine bump and grind with his date, when he felt someone lurking near his elbow.
“Not a dancer?”
Merlin’s head shot around so fast he thought he’d sprained his neck. “Arthur?”
“I am actually glad you’re not out there, Merlin. I’ve seen you run, I shudder to think what your dancing looks like.”
“Hey!” Merlin protested, but Arthur’s grin pulled him up short, and he found himself grinning back. “Yeah, well, don’t you get any ideas either. The teacher that dances at homecoming earns themselves at least a full semester of mocking.”
“Good thing I’m not a teacher then.”
“Close enough.”
Arthur’s eyes seemed to get brighter in the semi-dark room. “Not really.” He watched Merlin for a moment more and then seemed to shake himself, turning towards the dance floor. “I’m only three years older than you all, you know.”
Merlin knew. He’d looked him up. Top NFL prospect right out of high school, signed to a team his second year of college, busted knee and bad concussion in his first year in the pros, fallout with his tyrannical pro coach father, moved across the country to get away and go into high school coaching.
“Are you trying to tell me you want to dance? Because Ms. LeFay is the only teacher who can get away with it, you could probably ask her.”
Arthur’s laugh was short and surprised, and he covered his mouth with a fist. “Uh, no, I do not want to dance with Ms. LeFay. I’ve heard enough student related gossip to last a lifetime.”
So that’s what she’d been whispering to him earlier. Merlin’s heart lifted and he turned fully to Arthur, eyes wide. “Student related gossip?”
Arthur’s look of horror was so immediate and intense that Merlin couldn’t help but laugh. He felt buoyed by the ridiculous pop music and colored lights, the streamers swaying above them and the students chattering happily as they moved together on the linoleum floor.
“Dance with me then. My own special brand of flailing will overshadow even a coach on the dance floor.”
Arthur’s face closed off and Merlin felt supremely stupid, his hands twitching at his sides. He opened his mouth to take it back but not finding any words.
Arthur looked out over the dance floor and then his hand shot out to grab Merlin’s wrist, and then they were out amongst the students. Arthur dropped Merlin’s wrist and started stepping from side to side, his hands in fists up near his shoulders, and a smile so wide on his face that Merlin thought he’d go blind.
Merlin started out with what he called “white people wedding dancing”, the sort of dancing that all middle aged people did to songs like “Celebration” or “We Are Family”. But the next song that came on was faster paced and Merlin was feeling particularly silly - he was dancing with Arthur! Coach Pendragon! In a suit! - and he started loosening his limbs, working up to his favorite dance move of all time.
The sprinkler.
Arthur’s laugh was from the gut and almost doubled him over, and his eyes were shining when he looked up at Merlin, his mouth set in a challenging line. He started pushing an imaginary shopping cart, taking a moment every now and then to contemplate the shelves made of air before choosing invisible canned goods. Merlin countered with a little running man, and Arthur followed that up with some demented disco dance.
Four songs in and they had the students in their general vicinity coming up with things like the typewriter, the swan, and even a bastardized version of a flamenco dance that brought the house down.
At the end of song six Merlin was out of breath, sweat trickling down his back, and he motioned to Arthur for water, ducking around a couple doing what looked like one of the dances from the “Footloose” remake and making a beeline for the refreshment table. He was gulping a bottle of water when he saw Arthur loitering near the doors to the hallway where the locker rooms were before ducking through.
Merlin didn’t even stop to think before following.
Arthur was leaning against the wall in the little alcove where the drinking fountains were, his head ducked to his chest.
Merlin didn’t say anything, didn’t know if he could, just tucked himself into the alcove, the toes of his sneakers inches away from the toes of Arthur’s shiny black shoes.
The moment seemed to stretch on, the sweat cooling on Merlin’s skin and his heart thudding in his rib cage. He fiddled with the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, with the knot of his tie, with the hair curling over his ears. Finally Arthur spoke.
“Stop fidgeting.”
Merlin went totally still, his eyes on the floor. Arthur sounded upset, and though Merlin knew his constant twitchiness irked Arthur it had never made him sound so pissed. Then Arthur slid down the wall a little more, his shoes sliding along the floor until they nudged up against Merlin’s. Merlin looked up to find Arthur watching him, his mouth twisted up and his jaw clenched.
“Arthur - “
Arthur pushed off the wall and cut him off with a kiss, sealing his mouth over Merlin’s.
Merlin’s consciousness narrowed down until all he knew was Arthur’s lips against his, slightly chapped from sun and wind and so warm as they moved across his mouth and back again. Merlin couldn’t stop a small sound from escaping, and Arthur growled low in his throat and pressed closer, his forearms braced against the wall at Merlin’s back and one leg sliding between Merlin’s.
Merlin felt Arthur’s lips part and slid his tongue out to meet Arthur’s, the tips sliding against each other as sparks shot down Merlin’s spine and straight to his groin. He felt his cock stiffen against Arthur’s thigh and had one second to enjoy the friction before Arthur was pushing away, nearly slamming back against the opposite wall and looking stricken, panting and fisting his hands in his suit jacket pockets.
“We can’t, we can’t, I can’t,” he said, looking wild. Merlin had never seen him lose control before, and it was almost unnerving enough to take away the emptiness he felt when Arthur broke the kiss.
“Arthur, it’s okay, calm down.”
Arthur breathed deep through his nose and Merlin could see him pulling himself together, straightening slowly and schooling his expression into the stern face of authority that he used when running drills on the field. Merlin could feel his disappointment spiraling through him, knowing what Arthur was going to say before he opened his mouth.
“You are a student. I am a coach - “
“ - not a teacher, you’ve said yourself - “
“Not a teacher, no.” Arthur swiped a palm over his face and straightened his shoulders, his spine so straight it almost looked painful. “But a coach, an authority figure, and an employee of this school. And you are a student, and underage - “
“Oh, god, Arthur, I’m almost 18, that’s bullshit - “
“Merlin.”
Merlin clamped his mouth shut and crossed his arms, glaring.
“I’m sorry. I never should have done that and I sincerely apologize. I hope that we can put this behind us and finish out the season. You really have been a huge help so far, and I’d hate to think that this mistake could ruin that.”
Merlin’s eyes stung at the word mistake but he blinked hard and straightened up slowly, carefully lowering his arms. “You may be a coach but you’re also kind of a colossal dick.”
Merlin spun out of the alcove and stalked down the hallway, taking the long way around the gym and out into the cold night air, fuming all the way.
***
He seriously debated not showing up for the next practice, but he didn’t want to give Arth - Coach Pendragon - the satisfaction. So instead he showed up precisely on time, clipboard in hand, and said a cool hello to the coach as he took his place on the sidelines.
It took all of one practice for the players to notice the difference between the two of them, and Gwaine spent all of Tuesday morning cracking jokes about lovers’ tiffs before catching on to Merlin’s looks and shutting the hell up.
The week was torture, all the easy banter and comfortable silences reduced to clipped exchanges and awkward pauses, keeping a careful distance so their elbows didn’t brush. Merlin felt like he could crawl out of his skin, and he alternated between wanting to shout at Arthur for being such a total ass and wanting to tackle him to the grass and shove his tongue down his throat.
Gwen fed him Ben & Jerry’s on the weekend, and Lance printed out the most unflattering press pieces about Arthur’s short pro career that he could find, and Merlin woke up Monday feeling like he could at least face the coach without combusting from either lust or anger.
Merlin drew up short at the sight of the portly PE teacher standing near the bench, talking to Gwaine and twirling a whistle around his finger. He must’ve had his “what the fuck” face on because Gwaine drew away from the teacher and met Merlin on the path.
“Coach called in today.” Gwaine raised his eyebrows and leered.
“He must really be sick then,” Merlin said, glaring. Gwaine rolled his eyes.
“Sick, yeah. Maybe he needs someone to check on him.”
Merlin opened his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut again. “Actually, that sounds like an excellent plan.”
Gwaine leered again, and started walking backwards away from Merlin. “What’s that Merlin? You’re not feeling well?” Gwaine shouted it loud enough for everyone on the field to here and Merlin couldn’t keep a grin from his face. “Head on home then, no one wants you vomiting on the field!” He tossed a jaunty wave in Merlin’s direction before turning and loping off across the field.
The gym teacher turned towards Merlin and he shrugged, pressing an arm against his stomach and making a face. The teacher made a shoo-ing gesture with his hands and Merlin turned to head back towards school.
It was a good thing he’d paid attention when the varsity squad looked up Arthur’s address so they could TP his house for homecoming.
***
Arthur’s face when Merlin showed up at his door went from shocked to angry to stoic so fast it looked like a flipbook of photographs, but it threw him off just enough for Merlin to be able to shoulder through the front door without Arthur stopping him.
“You should not have come here Merlin. You - I may be contagious.”
Merlin scoffed, leaning his hip against the back of Arthur’s sofa, barely noticing the neat as a pin room and bare walls as he crossed his arms and glared at Arthur.
“You’re not sick. You’re a coward.”
Arthur seemed to swell up right in front of Merlin, his chest puffing out and his face going red. “I am not a coward.”
“You chose hiding here at home so you wouldn’t have to face me at practice.” Merlin felt grimly smug when Arthur’s ire seemed to falter just slightly before his lips tightened into a line. “Are you really that scared that I’ll jump you on the sidelines? Because trust me, I can control myself. Especially when you’re being such a giant douche that it totally overrides how hot - “
Again Merlin found himself cut off by Arthur’s mouth, and he entertained the thought that the way to make Arthur lose control was to poke him until he went right off the edge. Frankly, he didn’t care what the means were as long as the ends were this.
Arthur pulled back slightly and Merlin grabbed for his arms, holding him there so he wouldn’t rush off again. Arthur leaned his forehead against Merlin’s, his eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming fast and ghosting across Merlin’s face.
“Merlin,” he started, but Merlin lifted a hand and pressed his palm against Arthur’s lips.
“No. You’re just going to say something totally stupid again and I seriously cannot handle anymore awkward as hell practices. It’s pretty obvious that we’re both attracted to each other and that offends your weird medieval-noble-in-a-past-life sensibility, and you’re a coach and I’m a student and I get it. But here’s the thing. I’m not going to stop wanting you, and I daresay you’re not going to stop wanting me, so if you don’t want to suffer through the whole season I say let’s just start an illicit, possibly illegal affair and you can do some community service or something and after I graduate everything will be fine. Yeah?”
Merlin could feel Arthur’s mouth curve up under his hand and he risked moved it, sliding his fingers into Arthur’s hair, knowing before he felt it that it would be stupidly soft and perfect.
“Illicit affair? Community service?” Arthur’s eyes practically twinkled and Merlin shrugged.
“You know you love that idea, you freak.”
Arthur chuckled softly and wrapped his arms around Merlin’s waist, pressing their hips together. “I do, actually. I do not, however, love the idea of sleeping with a student while I’m coaching.”
Merlin felt a little thrill at that, and the contact, even though Arthur was trying to turn him down again.
“Would it help if I quit the stats position? Or stopped tutoring the guys? Dr. Gaius could get another tutor.”
Arthur’s eyes roved over his face, his skin heating up everywhere they touched.
“Or you could quit?” Merlin offered, rolling his hips slightly and watching Arthur’s eyelids droop. Merlin leaned forward and nipped Arthur’s lower lip.
“Merlin … “
“Hell,” Merlin said, sliding a hand down to cover Arthur’s fly, feeling the line of his erection through denim, and dropped his voice to a whisper, “I could even transfer schools.”
“Jesus, Merlin,” Arthur gasped, arching into Merlin’s hand. “Okay, fine, illicit affair it is.”
Merlin grinned in triumph and undid Arthur’s jeans, reaching inside his boxers to palm Arthur’s cock. “I think that is a wise decision, Coach.”
The End