"Who does this twat think he is," Arthur Pendragon huffs, tossing the magazine on Merlin's desk.

Merlin looks up, just checking-oh yes. He is talking to him. "Em?"

"Yes, the mysterious 'Em,'" Arthur mocks with air quotes.

They've only been room-mates for two weeks, but Merlin's fairly good at pegging people, making Arthur an easy read. He's open about most things, if something annoys him he'll talk until he's exhausted the subject—take a short break and then exhaust it again. He only took notice of Em, because Merlin was reading Vogue and Em happened to be on the cover.

Merlin also reads off of Arthur that he might be a bit of a poof, and that's okay with him. He is too.

"I mean, really. He could be a woman for all we know, and everyone's hailing him as the greatest male model ever. This person is totally androgynous."

"Big word for you."

"Shut up, Merlin. Honestly."

"I don't think he's half bad," he replies with an uninterested shrug.

"Don't think he's—well Merlin, that's because you try to look just like him! If it weren't for those huge knobby glasses and utter failure at being even a bit cool, then I might even see it."

"Thanks," he replies dryly. "Remind me why I put up with you again?"

"Your room-mate last semester tried to beat you to death? And I don't. I watch out for that scrawny arse of yours."

"Please, please, do me more unasked favours," Merlin murmurs, returning to his chemistry.

Arthur glowers fiercely at him.

But that weekend, when he gets to the studio and pulls off the fake glasses (feeling a bit Clark Kent-ish), shaves the rough stubble and pulls on the latest designer Vogue has for him, he puts extra effort into the modelling. The cameramen love it and he struts before the camera, posing, making the scene a part of him, and staring it down like a lover.

His agent hurries over with a bottle of water to tell him it's time for a change and be re-made-up. Merlin carries the persona with him to make up where he slumps into the chair, Gwen fussing on him immediately.

"I hear you're amazing today, Em."

He never uses his real name here. Ever. Only Morgana knows it, and she will never tell. She found him the end of high school and told him that he could make money modelling. Of course he turned her down-they always sell you like that for those schemes. But she convinced him that it could be anonymous-modelling under a fake name. Make up. Still unbelieving, they did a practice shoot and Morgana sent the photos to a small magazine. She came back to him with cash in one hand and the magazine and a contract in the other. Wouldn't hurt to help out with uni. So he accepted.

"Something's got you fired up, Em," Morgana agreed.

Merlin just shrugged. "Not everyone thinks I deserve the fame I'm getting."

"Oh, you do," Morgana assured him. And being two years in, he could see why she thought that he was in high demand, earned enough to pay for uni all together, releasing his mum from the burden, and get himself a great flat near campus.

"Just a bit annoyed is all."

"Haters gonna hate!" Gwen said brightly, tilting his head. "We should find people to put you down more often, if it does this!"

"I would expect that from Morgana-"

"Hey!"

"-but you, Gwen?" Merlin teases and the girl flushes.

"Sorry, Em."

"Whatever. I'm not bothered."

"Well, still. You really look fab."

"Thanks."

"You're done now."

Merlin strode back to the set, posing for the remainder of the set.

"Right, well, I have to get going," he yawns when finished.

"Sure. Good day today, Em," Morgana says with a nod. "Bring it back the 11th. Hugo Boss."

He grins. He likes Hugo Boss. Crisp. Clean. Sharp.

Merlin collects the magazines that he's in. It's not a vanity thing. It's a reminder. A reminder to himself to be careful. A reminder to himself that this is to earn him his education. A reminder to himself that he has a secret that the rest of the world doesn't know.

Mostly for the last one, but Merlin collects the magazines he's in.

Every once in a while he comes back to his flat, Arthur quickly moving to another room, Merin's magazines disturbed. He smiles. Arthur is more obvious than he thinks.

"What is it with this guy? Is he your idol or something like that?" Arthur mocks.

"God, get over yourself. Just admit that you like him already," Merlin retorts, working on his literature paper. The gen ed class has him frustrated. Also the fact that there are people sniffing around his identity at the studio.

"I don't like him. Are you sure it's a him?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?" Arthur leans over the back of the couch.

Merlin shrugs. "He's got male features."

Arthur opens his mouth to scoff, but Merlin interrupts.

"He models men's clothing. There are pictures of him without a shirt, modelling. He's definitely a bloke."

"Sounds like you're more than just a fan, Merlin."

"So does that mean that you don't steal my mags when I'm not home to look through them?" Merlin teases.

"Wha—I most certainly do not. I wouldn't waste my time," Arthur says, sitting back upright and turning to face Merlin.

"Mm-hm. Should I just buy you an extra copy next time. You can have your own?"

Arthurs face ruddies. "I don't care about Em."

"You just think he's pretty."

Arthur snorts. "Do not."

"Liar."

"Fine. I think he's pretty. He has great eyes, long lashes, and sexy cheekbones. Okay!"

Merlin shrugs. "Fine by me."

Arthur blinks, all the defensiveness melting away. "Really?"

Merlin laughs. "Did you think I was going to berate you or kick you off the lease?"

"Well, I—" He closes his mouth with a snap. "I dunno, really. I wasn't sure what I expected. It's just been...a secret for so long."

His eyes crinkle. "I understand."

And that was the beginning. Arthur slowly opens up to Merlin and they're friends. Or getting there. Arthur invites him out to drinks one night and Merlin almost tells him no because he's shooting tomorrow. Maybe they'll go with a smokey look for make up. In the end, he's glad he goes because Arthur leans over to him, breath smelling like beer, hot on his cheek and kisses the corner of his mouth.

From there it's all a fumble of limbs and lips and foreheads. Until they're asked to leave the pub. So they go back to the flat and the fumble returns, collapsing on the wide couch that Merlin had to have because it was just so comfortable. When their frenzied movements finally stop, Merlin collapses on top of Arthur, leaving his head to loll comfortably on the other man's shoulder, next to his neck.

"God, why did we wait so long to do that?" Merlin murmurs.

"Probably because I didn't know you wanted us to," Arthur drawls. "That was amazing."

"Thanks. I try." Which earns him a smack on the arm. "Careful. I bruise easily."

"Well since you're all skin and bones, that's hardly surprising, is it now, Merlin."

He shudders at the way Arthur purrs his name. Makes a snap decision. "So..."

"So?"

"That Em bloke."

"Oh God—"

"No hear me out. Were you really making fun of him? Or do you think he's gorgeous."

Arthur stiffens. "Do you think he's gorgeous?"

"I know he is, but I was asking you."

Flushing, Arthur squirms a little, dropping his eyes. "He's attractive, alright?"

"Did you wank off to him?"

"Merlin!"

"Just answer the question."

"God, fine! Just once. That Calvin Kline ad. With the jacket half off by the water and... geeze, this is embarrassing."

Merlin smiles. That had been one of his favourite. "That was one of my favourites as well."

Now armed with the secret knowledge of Arthur's likes, Merlin insists on wearing his fake glasses for the next shoot. The whole thing is wildly couture, all sorts of flowy scarves and fans and outrageous make-up. But he wears the specs as a marker so Arthur will know. They're worked in to his costume. The shoot is over, but Morgana grabs his arm on the way out, expression serious.

"You're not doing anything dumb, are you?"

"Course not," he replies, his ratty jeans back on with a jumper, hood pulled up over his bed-head looking hair.

"Merlin," she says exasperated, "when you say 'of course not,' it really means, 'obviously.'"

He grins.

"God, what did you do?"

"It's just a test."

"A test. What sort of test?"

Merlin purses his lips and then shrugs. "We'll see. I'll let you know how it turns out."

"You better not be shitting up your career."

"I hope not." Then he skirts past her and over to his car.

"Me—" He hears her break off, unable to shout his name across the parking lot. And grins.

Merlin's starting to get annoyed. The mag has been out for two weeks now, sitting on their coffee table for five days and Arthur still hasn't noticed.

So Merlin works on chemistry, trying very hard not to say anything to him about it and let him figure out the clues on his own. He spaces out, working through the problems with a sigh.

"Holy shit! Shit! Fuck!"

Merlin jumps, whirling around and out of his chair to help Arthur to whatever hospital was needed.

Except that he's fine. Standing in the middle of the sitting room. Fine. Fine but staring at the magazine. Then at Merlin. Then the magazine. Then Merlin again, jaw dropped dumbly.

Merlin lets go of the breath he'd been holding. Finally. "Don't scare me like that. I thought you were hurt or something."

"This is you!" Arthur accuses, stalking over. "This is you!"

"Hm," Merlin hums, peering over his arm at the ad that is, indeed, him.

"Merlin. The –shit. Em is you!"

"I believe you said that."

"You're EM?"

Merlin looks over to meet Arthur's eyes. "Arthur. I am Em."

"Don't dick around with this, mate!"

"I'm not," he replies easily with a shrug. "I didn't know how else to tell you. So I might as well show you. It took you long enough to notice."

"Bloody hell, Merlin!" Arthur falls heavily onto the back of the sofa, eyes wide.

"Is this all too much for you?"

"My bloody boyfriend's a famous model. And I didn't even know. How did I not know this? How did I not know?"

"You're not very observant."

Arthur's mouth clicks shut and he glares very hard at Merlin. For a minute, Merlin sweats that there's going to be a problem. Then Arthur says, "Do you get to keep the clothes."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "I have a few scarves."

"Good. Put them on and then let's go have wild sex. I'm really hard for you right now, and it's rather uncomfortable."

Merlin blinks a moment and then smiles slowly. "I have a better idea..."

It isn't until Arthur's writhing furiously and practically sobbing that Merlin deigns to untie the scarves. It's a very short second later that Arthur's pouncing on him and making very good use of his hard prick, in Merlin's opinion.

When they're finally able to make intelligent speech, Merlin says, "Well. That was worth it."

Arthur replies, "Mmmnffg."

Perhaps not so intelligent.

"So I'm guessing you like the fact that I'm a model."

"I'll come to all your shows. I'll let you shag me in the back room. I'll stay at all your shows. Then we'll come home and shag some more. And then I can say that my boyfriend is much better looking than that model, Em."

Merlin makes a noise of agreement. "I think I can live with that."