Chapter Text
“Don’t look now, Merlin, but the bloke behind you is sniffing you,” Will whispers in Merlin’s ear as he gets a bottle of water from the machine at the gym.
“What?” Merlin asks on a huff of laughter. He, Will, and Gwaine have just finished a sweaty game of basketball, but Merlin knows he didn’t forget to wear deodorant. He moves aside so that Will can take a turn at the machine and comes face to face with a very handsome man dressed in a white workout shirt and navy shorts. He’s blond and fit with blue eyes and…yes, he does seem to be sniffing at Merlin.
“Um, what are you doing?” Merlin asks, pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes and taking a step back.
“Hm? Oh, sorry. Actually, I was just smelling you,” the man replies. His voice is very posh, and he seems quite sure of himself, the way he stands with his hands on his hips and his lips pressed together, surveying Merlin.
“That’s what I thought,” Merlin gives him a funny look. “Could you stop, please?” He moves away.
Will is guzzling his water. He twists the cap back on. “Bloody pervert,” he says, then, “Come on, Merlin.” They head to the locker room where Gwaine’s just stepping out of the shower.
“I have to hurry. Meeting Elena at The Dragon’s Lair for drinks,” Gwaine says, toweling off his longish brown hair.
Will turns on one of the showers and strips. “Better wash up, Merls, or you’ll be attracting more weirdos who like stinky pits,” he says before closing the curtain.
“What’s he on about?” Gwaine asks, brow lifting.
“Some guy was sniffing me by the vending machine,” Merlin replies. He lifts his arm and smells. “Not sure what that was about. Do I smell or something?” He offers his armpit to Gwaine, who backs off.
“Sorry, mate,” Gwaine makes a face, “but you’ll just have to wonder.”
Merlin shrugs, walks to his locker, and gets out his bag, taking the unscented soap from the plastic container. After a bad allergic reaction when he was a young boy, he’s never used soaps, shampoos, deodorants, or detergents that aren’t natural and free of perfumes. By the same token, he never wears colognes of any kind.
He showers and dresses quickly, and the three men exit the gym together, laughing and talking.
“Uh, oh, there’s the weird knob again,” Will mutters as the automatic doors close behind them. The blond man they saw before is leaning against the building, now dressed in nice slacks and a button-down shirt.
Gwaine whistles under his breath. “He’s a looker! Might be worth putting up with him.”
Will elbows him in the ribs.
When they draw closer to the man and he sees Merlin, he stands up straight and offers his hand to shake.
“My name’s Arthur Pendragon, and I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot before.”
“You didn’t get off on any foot, mate,” Will tells him belligerently. “He just wanted you to stop sniffing at him like a dog. Now beat it.”
“Will,” Merlin admonishes, and takes Arthur’s hand.
“I didn’t mean for you to take my interest in you as an insult,” Arthur continues, “I very much like the way you smell.”
Merlin blushes red.
“Oh, my God,” Will says, and Gwaine steps forward.
“Look, mate. You’re hot as hell and all that, but you’re making our friend here uncomfortable—he’s not into kinky shit like that. So maybe you’d just better go.” When Arthur doesn’t immediately move and Gwaine takes a step closer to him, a man built like a tank steps out of seemingly nowhere, pushing himself between Arthur and Gwaine.
“It’s all right, Percy,” Arthur tells him, putting a hand out. “There’s just a misunderstanding all around,”
Gwaine stares up at Percy, eyes wide, but unwilling to back down.
“Please,” Arthur says to Merlin, his eyes very blue. “Can we start over? Let me buy you a drink.”
Merlin doesn’t know what to think. On the one hand, it’s seriously odd to have a person sniff at you, particularly after you’ve been sweating profusely. On the other, Arthur Pendragon is a very good looking man—definitely the finest one Merlin’s ever seen in person—and he’s asking Merlin out for a drink. He glances at Gwaine.
“How about at The Dragon’s Lair? That’s where my friends are going.”
Arthur’s smile is blinding. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll meet you there.”
~ ~~
~~~
“I don’t even know your name,” Arthur says as he seats himself across from Merlin at the corner table in the small, crowded pub. Merlin has to scoot his chair very close in order to hear the words over the din of the Saturday evening crowd.
“Merlin Emrys,” he says, leaning toward Arthur’s ear. And did Arthur just take another whiff of him?
“So is that Percy guy your body guard or something?” Merlin nods to where Percy has taken a seat with a tall, ginger-haired man.
“Yes, unfortunately my father seems to think I need one occasionally,” Arthur replies. He’s bought them both a beer, and he takes a long sip of his. “Percy has other functions, though. He doesn’t always act as my body guard.”
“You needed one today. Gwaine would’ve laid you out if you’d given him any trouble,” Merlin replies with a cheeky grin before taking a pull from his bottle.
Arthur leans back, propping his arm on the back of the chair. “I think I could’ve taken him,” he says with confidence, and Merlin laughs, his eyes raking over Arthur with speculation. “Maybe.” And God, is he flirting with the guy now?
But Arthur’s answering smile is worth it, and Merlin gives him a grin.
“Soo…with the sniffing thing. Mind telling me what that was about? Because I find myself really hoping you aren’t a nutter.”
Arthur straightens up in his seat. “Yes, well. I suppose that did look a bit odd.”
“A bit,” Merlin nods.
“I don’t normally go around sniffing blokes. I want you to know that,” Arthur tells him.
“Good to know. I’m just special, then?”
“Very,” Arthur replies. When Merlin frowns, he rushes on to say, “You see, Merlin, my family works in scent. I’ve grown up in it. Surely you’ve heard of Pendragon Perfumes?”
Merlin’s heart falls. So this isn’t a pick up. He should have known. “I wasn’t wearing any scent,” he says a bit harshly, and his body language must give him away, for Arthur’s already got his hand on Merlin’s arm reassuringly.
“Merlin, you caught my eye well before you caught my…well, nostrils.” Arthur colours, and Merlin finds the blush immensely appealing on the confident man. He relaxes a little, very aware of the heat of Arthur’s hand on his arm.
“I was trying to think of something to say to you when I smelled you. You smell…well, just really good. Believe me; I have a very sensitive nose. It comes from years of training.”
Merlin makes a face. Is this guy for real? “Arthur, I had just spent an hour and a half on the basketball court. There is no way in hell that I smelled good. Do you have some kind of smell kink or something?”
Arthur shakes his head. “No. I don’t. I know I must sound like I do, but I don’t. At least, I never have before. At the gym, you’d been sweating, and I could just smell you so strongly. Now, you’re clean and showered…I don’t smell any soaps or colognes on you…” he raises his brow in question, and Merlin shakes his head, “but you still smell fantastic to me. I swear, I can smell you from here.”
Granted, Arthur is only inches away, but what the fuck? Merlin looks around, spots Gwaine with Elaina, and feels a bit better. When he looks back at Arthur, the man appears a little crestfallen.
“You think I’m daft. I don’t blame you.” He fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out a card. It’s embossed and on expensive paper and has the fancy Pendragon Perfume emblem on it.
“Believe me, when you grow up being regularly blindfolded and forced to smell things over and over again, you develop a very sharp nose,” Arthur tells him. “I’m sorry I’ve come off as such a creep. If I hadn’t sniffed you like a stray mutt, do you think you would’ve given me the time of day?”
Merlin looks into the deep blue of Arthur’s eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching in spite of himself. “Surely not a mutt,” he can’t resist teasing. “A pure bred Pekingese, maybe, but not a mutt.”
Arthur looks a bit affronted, but wisely keeps silent.
“I think I would’ve given it to you. The time, that is,” Merlin finally answers him with a smirk.
Arthur blushes, ducks his head, and Merlin thinks this is the moment he’s lost, because fuck, the man is gorgeous, sweet, and a bit of a child inside. And he thinks Merlin smells good, of all things!
“Are you saying you want to take me out, Mr. Pendragon?” Merlin leans forward boldly. “Smell me up?” He lifts his brows.
Arthur looks up at him, his breath catching in his throat, and Merlin gets the feeling this is something that never happens to Arthur Pendragon—being caught off balance like this. It fills Merlin with a sense of power he isn’t used to, and he likes it. Very much.
“May I take you to dinner?” Arthur asks quietly, as though Merlin’s answer is very, very important.
Merlin turns the card over in his hand. “Got a pen?”
When Arthur hands him one, gold and very posh, Merlin writes his cell number and the address of the coffee shop near his flat in block letters. “Meet me there at seven?” He hands Arthur the card and gets up. Arthur stands, too. Merlin hefts his gym bag off the floor and heads for the door. “See you then,” he says over his shoulder, and wonders if he imagines the slight flare of Arthur’s nostrils in his wake.