"I didn't wait around for two thousand years just to help you cheat on your history paper."

They were in Arthur's dorm, on his tiny, uncomfortable bed, and Merlin was sitting, back against the wall, with Arthur nestled between his legs. Arthur had been trying valiantly for twenty minutes to get Merlin to spill his knowledge about the Industrial Revolution to avoid reading his textbook, but Merlin, as always, patiently declined and instead amused himself by playing with Arthur's bright blond hair.

Arthur beat his pen impatiently against the notebook on his lap and tilted his head back to give Merlin a wide-eyed, pleading stare. Merlin would never admit how much affect that stare actually had. For all Arthur knew, Merlin was merely amused and not at all thinking about the thousand other times Arthur had used that stare in different eras and circumstances, not at all thinking about the times he'd turned Arthur down just to wonder later if he'd done the right thing, if he should've been more lenient, if he should've spoiled him more.

"It's not cheating," Arthur argued. "I'd get the same thing from the textbook."

"Then read the book."

"I like how you tell things."

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

"But Merlin."

"Arthur."

They stared at each other for a moment.

Then Arthur threw his pen across the room.

"Whoops," he deadpanned.

"Well that was stupid of you," Merlin said. His eyes flickered gold and the pen slowly floated back to the bed. Arthur cowered away from it as it neared, twitching back and forth as the pen threatened to draw on his face. He finally ended up rolling around onto his stomach and burying his face into Merlin's chest.

The pen settled for drawing hearts on his arm.

Merlin smiled and pulled gently on Arthur's hair. "Why are you so against reading all of a sudden? You've managed it fine for twenty years."

Arthur grumbled petulantly. "Because."

Merlin chuckled. "No matter the time or place, you always act like a spoiled little boy."

"Do not." Arthur lifted his face to glare, but Merlin honestly thought a rabbit would've been more threatening. He booped Arthur on the nose.

Arthur sighed.

"Alright," Merlin consented. "What's wrong with you? I know you've passed the depressed teenager phase."

"I didn't have a depressed teenager phase."

"Really? Because I distinctly remember plenty of black wristbands and 'I need hugs' t-shirts."

"It said 'Free Hugs,' and I was just keeping up with the trends."

"Right. Come here." Merlin pushed Arthur up until he had room to fully lie down underneath him, then he pulled Arthur down again so they were chest-to-chest, his arms wrapped tightly around Arthur's middle. "You are being hugged, Depressed Teenager Arthur. Now tell me what's wrong."

Arthur snorted and buried his face in Merlin's neck. "I hate you."

Merlin's eyes crinkled with mirth. "Yeah? Answer the question."

"I'll say it wrong."

"You won't."

"…I want to hear it from you." Arthur pushed up onto his elbows and stared into Merlin's eyes. His brows were furrowed with determination, but all Merlin could see was the vulnerability in his wide eyes and pouting lips. It broke his heart a little.

"You know all about me in all of my lives, but you won't tell me anything about you. What were you up to when I wasn't there? When I was there? Why won't you tell me?"

Merlin reached up to trace the space between Arthur's brows where he should have a permanent crease by this point. The sides of his face should have already been littered with scars or bruises, or he should have wrinkles around his eyes and lips from too much frowning and fear.

He answered quietly, "I don't want to think about the times I was without you. I don't want to think about the versions of you that I've lost. I want to think about this time. This face."

Arthur looked ready to argue more, so Merlin leaned up and kissed him, right on his spoiled pout.

"You really want to know something I've never told you before?" Merlin asked.

"Yes."

"It doesn't have to do with the Industrial Age."

"Don't care."

"This is the only life where I've been your first kiss."

Arthur's eyes widened with pure, gooey affection before suddenly narrowing in suspicion. "Did you throw Jessica down a flight of stairs?"

"That was an unfortunate accident."

"You gave Vivian chicken pox."

"Not an accident, but she was terrible for you anyway."

"And Kyle?"

"Actually did have herpes. You have terrible taste in partners."

"You're right."

"Oi!"

Arthur laughed and playfully rubbed their noses together.

Merlin smiled wryly at him and grumbled, "Honestly, after all I've done for you."

"Yet you still haven't told me about the Industrial Revolution."

"And what would you cite on your paper? Source: Really Old Boyfriend?"

"Well, yes."

Merlin let out a startled laugh because he knew Arthur really, really would. He'd take the paper to his professor with a wide, shit-eating grin and actually have the balls to only cite Merlin as a source because Arthur was an idiot and amazing and an idiot.

"You're definitely reading the book now."

Arthur sighed and slumped forward pathetically, hiding his head in the crook of Merlin's neck. He mumbled, "Fine."

Merlin smirked and let him lay there for a few seconds, not in any hurry himself to be done with the cuddling.

Then Arthur stirred. "Merlin?"

"Hmm?"

"The pen is drawing Mona Lisa on my arm."

"Whoops?"

Arthur kissed his neck and chuckled. "Wanker."