bitchprince | Room 325, Sunday Afternoon

Entry tags:

brynmor,
room 325

Room 325, Sunday Afternoon

Bored. Bored bored bored. A morning spent in the salle had not alleviated Arthur's enormous helping of boredom. He needed to distract himself. With no weapons allowed in the dorms, it had been a bit difficult (if not impossible, but he'd put it aside after a while) to work on Merlin's not-really-a-Christmas-present-anymore, so that was out, too.

He had already put Francine's sweater away as far as he could (it wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture. It was just that it wasn't... well, you know. He was trying to be nice, and it was decent craftsmanship, but it kept reminding him of Merlin's absurd obsession with items of clothing his mother had made), poked around the room, tried the Teevee (still not pleasant, especially without the distraction of someone in the room) and gone through the first chapter of Salammbo.

Nothing.

Which was why, by the time the middle of the afternoon rolled around, there was a dog sitting on Arthur's floor.

"Stay. Just-- no. Stay."

[[ open post, half-open door ]]

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"Now she is."

Or Arthur being properly alpha dog. He was, strangely enough, quite good at it.

He gave Merlin a light shove with his foot at the same time he gave the dog a pet over the head.

He would be.

"Now that you've taken an interest," Merlin pointed out.

Arthur rolled his eyes theatricaly. "I'm just that good," he decided. "Anyway, you just need to channel Owain's instincts better. Might keep him from scratching you up like a cat's favorite toy."

"He's gotten better!" Now that he seemed to think Merlin might be his mother.

Sigh.

Merlin could be the mother. Arthur would be his potent, powerful... trainer.

"So you claim. I still have my doubts." He finished off the very last chunk and shoved the plate aside, prodding at Merlin with his foot again.

"Are you going to keep kicking me?"

"Please. If I was kicking you, you'd feel it," Arthur informed him, primly. In that way that wasn't prim at all. "Come here."

Merlin rolled his eyes and did as asked, flopping over next to him. "You ought to get some movies. The have this thing on the internet where you just pick them and they're sent to you."

It was called Amazon.com. It was magical.

"You're the one with this obsession with movies," Arthur pointed out to him. Not at all enjoying the new burst of bodyheat, thank you. "I just indulge you from time to time."

All right, watching them with Merlin wasn't so bad. That generally distracted him from how noisy it was.

"You enjoyed some of them. With the explosions," Merlin replied, waving his hands to signify the boom part.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Marginally," he said, subtly shifting enough that more body parts were in contact with Merlin's.

Not dirty, actually. He was suddenly acutely aware of how rare anything like this had been back home.

Merlin stifled that little 'YAYSNUGGLING' voice in the back of his head for being girly and only making Arthur call him on it.

But he did manage to worm an arm around Arthur's waist, so score one for him. "That one in the large building, with the walking on glass bit."

"Where they completely got all the weapons wrong," Arthur said, with distaste.

Notice how he was not mentioning the arm.

"...what about them?"

"Holding them wrong," he said, "And the thing with the-- oh, a country boy like you wouldn't understand. But trust me. It's a miracle none of them injured themselves."

"The guns?" Merlin asked, making a face. "I know what a gun does, Arthur."

"What it does and how to use properly are two different things," Arthur retorted. "It's not like I'd trust you with a crossbow just like that."

His hand found the opposite side of Merlin's neck somehow, rubbing idle circles over the skin for no particular purpose at all.

"A gun hardly seems the same as a crossbow," Merlin replied, shooting him a look.

"It's a lot like it, actually," Arthur said, with a slight shrug. "Just faster and smaller. Bit more of a kick."

"A bit?"

Arthur shrugged. "I actually have muscle mass, unlike some people I know. But don't worry," he hastened to add, "I've got talent for it and the sheer grit to withstand the training required."

"Enough to not be hurt when you get shot by one of them?"

"I have never been shot by a gun," he returned. "I was talking," okay, now he was just leaning his chin on Merlin's shoulder, that couldn't possibly be anything but snuggling, not that he was going to mention so, "About the recoil."

"And I was talking about the damage they do," Merlin replied, slightly mollified by the cuddling.

"It's a weapon, Merlin," he pointed out, shutting his eyes. "And nothing near as inhuman as an atom bomb."

Which was an idea that made Arthur twitch a bit, to be honest. Possibly physically.

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