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“So, I have a question,” Arthur speaks up, breaking the silence of the room. Merlin’s sprawled out on his bed, halfway through his assigned reading whilst Arthur was sitting at their shared desk, supposedly doing his accounts homework.
“And I’m meant to have the answer?” Merlin shoots back, glancing up in time to see Arthur twirl his pen around as he stares at the wall behind Merlin’s head.
“Well, yes. Look, I didn’t want to ask before because we were strangers and I wasn’t sure if it was a sensitive topic or not but I suppose it’s safe to say that since I magnanimously tolerate you, we can be classed as friends and as such, I figured I can ask and you could just tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to talk about it and there’ll be no hard feelings,” Arthur explains in that haughty tone of his that makes Merlin roll his eyes even as he bites back his laughter.
“God, you’re such a dick. We’re literally dating, you asshole. Just for that, I have half a mind not to answer you. On principle,” Merlin responds, sitting up so that he can look at Arthur properly. “But since this sounds like a serious topic and I’m the cat curiosity killed, what’s your question?”
Arthur blinks at him for a second, looking at him as though he’s incredibly daft. “You do know that’s not the way that saying goes, right?”
Merlin waves him off. “You wanted to ask me something?”
“Right, yes. At the risk of sounding incredibly -- whatever the opposite of woke is, I suppose -- what pride flag is that?”
Merlin gapes at him then turns to glance at the green, white and orange stripes on the flag pinned to the wall behind him before he glances at Arthur again.
As the seconds move on, Arthur’s skin starts to color and he glances around the room nervously.
Eventually, Merlin is the one to break the silence.
“You’re so fucking stupid, oh my God.”
Arthur splutters. “Wha-- I-- look just tell me, would you?”
“It’s the Irish flag, you dolt. How do you not know that?”
“Oh. I don’t know, I guess I’ve never really paid attention to Ireland. Geography’s not my thing, okay?” Arthur huffs defensively and Merlin snorts in amusement.
“Clearly. Wait, so what pride flag did you think it was?”
“I don’t know,” Arthur whines mournfully and Merlin is impressed that he can somehow make a whine sound mournful. “There’s so many flags for so many different things and I can’t learn them all. I’m just bad at flags, alright? I’m sorry. Morgana says it makes me the worst queer person ever but I don’t mean to be insensitive, I just genuinely can’t remember them all. I blame my father.”
Merlin raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Your father?”
“Yes,” Arthur grumbles. “When we were learning all the flags of different countries in school, he used to yell at me every time I got one wrong and you know, it made me feel shitty cause I was like what? Eight? Anyways, I started hating any and all flags and now I think I’ve got some sort of mental block against them because I can’t remember most of them. Obviously I know some but…”
Arthur shrugs, looking dejected and ashamed as his fingers run over the edges of the desk. Merlin’s laughter dies in his throat, his hatred for Uther intensifying. Suddenly, he feels bad for laughing.
He pushes himself off the bed, walking over to wrap his arms around Arthur’s shoulders from behind. He presses a kiss to Arthur’s head then rests his chin on it, squeezing him lightly.
“Your dad’s a prick,” He murmurs softly and Arthur huffs a breath that’s meant to be a laugh. “But I’m sorry for laughing at you. I thought you were just being a himbo as usual.”
“Merlin,” Arthur complains, shoving away from Merlin’s hold theatrically. “I’m not a himbo. Stop calling me that.”
Merlin tightens his hold. “You totally are but it’s okay cause you’re my himbo.”
Arthur settles back into Merlin’s arms. “That’s not fair. You don’t get to be mean and sweet at the same time, that’s not how it works.”
“You’re just mad because I’m capable of being sweet and you aren’t,” Merlin teases and Arthur angles his head to glare at him.
“I’ll show you sweet,” He growls, reaching up to grab Merlin in a headlock and rub his knuckles against his head.
“Arthur!” Merlin yells. “You’re going to make me fall, you prat!”
Arthur ignores him as he continues to flail and within seconds the ergonomic chair tips over and they both tumble to the floor.
“I told you,” Merlin grouches, rolling away from Arthur in an attempt to disentangle their limbs.
Arthur swats at him, chuckling breathlessly. “It was all your flailing that did it. You have a total lack of coordination, you know?”
“I hate you,” Merlin tells him seriously as he rubs his ribcage where Arthur’s elbow hit when they fell.
“No you don’t,” Arthur counters. “I’m too good for you to hate.”
“Too good at inflating your own ego, you mean,” Merlin corrects and Arthur pins him to the floor, leaning down so that their faces are only centimeters apart.
“Take that back,” He orders, voice low and husky.
“Or what?” Merlin goads, eyes shining with mischief.
“Or else,” Arthur answers, leaning down to press their lips together in a rough kiss.
“Or else what?” Merlin breaks apart to ask and Arthur groans.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Insufferably sweet,” Merlin grins, kissing him again. “Oh, and Irish.”
Arthur pulls away from him, rising up a few inches so that he can jab his fingers into Merlin’s sides, tickling him relentlessly.
“You really need to learn to shut up sometimes.”
“Get off me!” Merlin bites out between breathless laughter and Arthur grins.
“No! This is retribution for calling me a himbo and bashing my normal-sized ego!”
“Arthur!” Merlin wheezes, tears leaking through the corner of his eyes as he jerks about, trying in vain to shake his boyfriend off.
“Take it back!”
“Fine! Fine! I take it back! I’m sorry!” Merlin finally surrenders and Arthur drops to the spit next to him, allowing him to catch his breath.
Merlin pushes the palm of his hand into Arthur’s cheek, pushing him away.
“I can’t believe I’m dating you,” He whines. “Go finish your homework.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Arthur salutes, getting to his feet. He looks down at Merlin lying pathetically on the floor and shakes his head, holding out his hands for him to take. “Come on, get up.”
Merlin takes his hands and goes back to his spot on the bed. After a few minutes, he tosses Arthur his phone. “You’re welcome.”
Arthur unlocks his phone in confusion, releasing a loud, booming laugh when he spots the new app Merlin has downloaded.
Flagbot.