Merlin snorts and quickly puts his drink down. He manages not to spit out what he had already drank. "You arse," he accuses, glaring. The effect, though, is ruined by the twitching of his mouth.

Arthur smiles smugly. "An it's quite a magnificent one too. Isn't that why you asked me on this date, after all?"

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Clearly I was stunned by the size of your ego and therefore not thinking properly when I asked."

"My ego is not that big!"

"Really, I'm surprised you were able to walk through the doorway," Merlin continues to tease, full out grinning now.

"Why at least my ears don't hit people who get too close," Arthur retorts.

Merlin covers his ears, faking offense. "They do not. They are distinctive."

"That's one word for them."

Merlin sticks out his tongue at the other teen. Honestly he is having a great time. When he had first worked up the courage to ask the other out, he couldn't believe that he said yes. He had been admiring him for weeks, ever since he first started coming to the restaurant where Merlin was a waiter. He vaguely remembers seeing him in the halls at their school, but they don't share any classes. Only after Merlin had spilled a drink all over Arthur, from having being pushed, did they start talking.

It started out small at first, Merlin apologizing and Arthur admittedly being a bit of a prat about it. But then Arthur started flirting and Merlin made these truly horrendous jokes in return, which Arthur strangely seemed to like. Soon blatant flirting turned into quick chats in between other customers and an exchange of numbers. They hadn't been texting long before Merlin asked him out. It couldn't end that badly if Arthur was still around.

"So, prat, what do you do for fun? Stare at yourself in the mirror?"

Arthur draws himself up. "I'll have you know I am a starter on the football team at school."

"Wait, you are?"

"Of course I am Merlin. Obviously you've never been to a game."

"Sports aren't really my thing."

"Oh, then what is 'your thing'?" Arthur asks, miming air quotes.

"Lit and art mostly. Some science, mostly picked up from Uncle Gaius."

"You're Gaius' nephew?"

"Yessss," Merlin draws out the word, "why are you asking that like it means something?"

"Father and Gaius are friends, he mentions you sometimes. Although Father tends to grumble when he does. I'm not sure why exactly."

Merlin gets a sinking feeling in his stomach. No, there's no way. He's definitely overreacting, jumping to conclusions. After all there has to be other men that hate Merlin who Uncle Gaius knows. Right? Oh please be right. "Arthur," he asks slowly, "who is your Father?"

Arthur looks surprised. "Uther Pendragon."

"What?!" Merlin yelps, far too loudly and high pitched to be passed off as casual.

"Merlin, do you have any idea who I am?"

"Arthur," he answers simply. He had thought that would be enough, but obviously not.

"Do you even know that we go to the same school?"

"Of course I do," Merlin answers, offended, "I remember passing you in the halls."

"Really?" Arthur raises an eyebrow.

Merlin shrugs and admits, "Faintly," a bit sheepishly.

Arthur sighs. "Merlin, I'm Arthur Pendragon," he stresses his last name.

"What?!" Merlin asks again, and this time it is definitely a squeak. "You're telling me that you're that Arthur Pendragon. Arthur Pendragon, the footie star. Arthur Pendragon, student council member and president of the debate team. Arthur Pendragon, the most popular boy in school. That Arthur Pendragon?"

"You know another?" Arthur asks dryly.

Merlin groans and drops his head onto the table. Great, just great. Super. Fantastic even.

Arthur laughs. "Honestly, I thought you knew. Is it really that big of a deal?" And here he sounds ever so slightly insecure. As if he has anything to be insecure about.

Merlin shakes his head. "No. I mean, I never thought I'd have a chance with someone with real social stasis. It's just." he sighs, "Arthur, Headmaster Pendragon hates me. And before you say it, NO, I am not imagining it."

"Oh come now, he might not like you, but-"

"But nothing. The man hates my very existence. Every time I get called into his office – and it's not my fault that I do, by the way – he looks like he wants to behead me. Every. Single. Time," he stresses, "I don't know what I supposedly did to make him hate me, but he does."

Arthur frowns. "What does he look like?"

"What?"

"His facial expersion, what does it look like? He has a number a different expressions and I've basically seen them all at this point."

"I'm so sorry for your life," Merlin tells him before scrunching his nose in thought. "Well, there's this death glare-"

"-As if you are a bug he wants to step on or something that belongs in the rubbish bin?"

"Bug, definitely, but also with a vibe of 'I despise your very presence'. His eye sometime twitches when I talk-"

"-Right or left?"

"Left. His teeth sometime clench. But really, it's his voice. This is going to sound dramatic, but I swear it sends chills down to the center of my soul. My soul Arthur."

Arthur nods thoughtfully. "My Father really does hate you," he confirms. "Honestly, Father isn't the most... warm person. There are plenty of people he dislikes, finds annoying or completely irrelevant.

But hate? There's a certain group of people Father hates, but I don't see how you could fit into it."

"Oh?"

"They're all in his generation that he went to school with – Morgause Le Fay, Nimueh Ryan, Balinor Emrys, er..."

Merlin coughs. "Balinor Emrys?"

"Yes, do you know him?"

"Balinor is my Father."

"Oh shite."

"Yeah."

The two boys look at each other, not knowing what to say. Then Merlin shrugs. "Let's not tell Uther we're dating. Ever."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Decided we're dating, have you?"

Merlin blushes. "Er, that is, I mean I understand if you, uh, this is only the first date and it's probably too soon," he babbles, not looking up from the table.

"Merlin," Arthur cuts him off, looking smug. "Of course you can go out with me. I am irresistible."

Merlin snorts. "Is that what you tell yourself every morning in the mirror?"

"I don't need to tell myself that. I just know."

"Clot pole," Merlin accuses.

"What?"

"Clot pole."

"That's not even a word."

"Sure it is."

"Oh and what does it mean?"

"In two words? Arthur Pendragon."

"Numpty."

"Prat."

"Plonker."

Oh yes, this is definitely the start of something wonderful. Just as long as Arthur's Father never finds out about it. Ever. Can you imagine the Christmas dinners?