Disclaimer: All characters within this story do not belong to the author. They belong to the BBC. Dangit.

Author's Note: Well, this is as crack-ish as I ever got. It's probably kind of a lot bad, because I wrote it after waking up at four in the morning thinking about booty calls. I must say I do like the title. I'm going to start a rap group called 'Hypothetical Booty Call.'

Summary: Merlin starts getting weird calls in the middle of the night…

Warnings: Uh. Language is pretty coarse. That's pretty much it.

---

Merlin groaned, throwing his arm over his face to ineffectually block out the sound of his mobile ringing. He wasn't going to answer it, just let it go through, because seriously, who the hell calls at four in the morning? But whoever it was that was calling had other plans.

He flung out his hand, groping blindly around on the little table by his bed, wanting to shut up his annoying ringtone, which Will must have set. Bastard.

"…Hullo?" he grumbled into the phone, his voice scratchy and quiet still with sleep.

"Hel-…-lin?"

"Hello? Who is this?"

"…-s Ar-…-o?"

Merlin scowled at his phone. Whoever was calling him was at some place entirely too noisy, and must not have had good service, because all he heard was bits of pieces of Lady Gaga's 'Just Dance' and somebody trying to talk to him. The number was unfamiliar.

"Listen, whoever this is, you're breaking up. It's four in the morning, you should just go home, it's exams next week. Most normal people have to sleep and study. If you please, don't call again, thank you," and he hung up, shut his phone off, and promptly fell back asleep.

In the morning he noticed his roommate still wasn't home, but he couldn't be bothered. He had slept through his alarm, and was currently running late to his Still-Life Class. He quickly dressed, and instead of brushing his teeth he popped like, 5 sticks of gum in his mouth and flung his door open.

"Ow! What the heck!"

Merlin's eyes widened and he quickly shut his door behind him to observe the damage he had just done to whoever had the misfortune to come in contact with a late Merlin.

"Oh, Arthur," Merlin sighed a sigh of relief. "It's you. Well, Lance still isn't in, so…I'm running late."

Arthur glowered, his hand still covering his nose, "That's it? You hit me in the face with a door and say, 'Oh, it's you.' You don't even apologize? You're a rude idiot, aren't you?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes, "Uh, yeah. Well. Have a nice day. When you find Lance, tell him my mum sent us lasagna and biscuits." He pushed passed Arthur and ran towards his next class.

---

When Merlin got back to the dorm, Lance was there, flipping through a book and eating the biscuits Merlin's mum had sent them. Unfortunately, Arthur was there as well, also eating the biscuits. His biscuits. Their biscuits. Whatever they were, they were not his biscuits.

Merlin, though, was trying this new thing where he wasn't so much of an ass to Arthur, because Lance hated when they fought, and Merlin rather liked Lance, and they had to live together. So instead he settled for snatching a couple of biscuits for himself and pouting on his bed, hoping the room stayed silent like it was.

He became immersed in the paper he was writing, completely ignoring the room's other occupants. That is, until he heard a suspicious 'slurp' noise. He wrinkled his nose and kept his eyes forwards. There was another 'slurp' followed by a barely held in groan. Merlin glared at the screen of his laptop, tapping a little bit louder on his keyboard and clearing his throat. 'Slurp,' groan, 'pop.' Merlin sighed and snapped his laptop shut angrily, standing from his bed.

"That's alright, I'll just leave and go to the library. I'm sorry to have bothered you two at all," Merlin glared at the rather too engaged people on the other bed. Arthur had Lance pushed down on the bed and was none-too-subtly leaving a mark on Lance's neck.

Arthur pulled back with a vague grin in Merlin's direction, "Cheers, mate, thanks." And Lance had the gall to look apologetic as Merlin shot one last glare at them and slammed the door on his way out.

---

When Merlin returned, he was thankful to see that both Lance and Arthur were gone. There weren't any biscuits left, though. Small joys, he supposed. It was rather late, and he figured it'd be another night Lance wouldn't come back. He liked nights like these, even if he did like Lance. It was easy for him to fall asleep and stay asleep.

It wasn't easy to stay asleep, however, when his mobile rang at two in the morning. Merlin contemplated just ignoring it again, or throwing it across the room, but he knew the caller would be persistent, again. If it was the same caller. He answered it.

"Merlin? Merlin, are you…" there was the sound of crashing glass, followed by a lot of obnoxious, drunken laughter. Merlin didn't recognize the number or the voice once more.

"Who is this?" Merlin asked, a little more than upset that whoever it was kept calling him from noisy places at ungodly hours of the day.

"Merlin? Hey, Merlin!"

He pulled the phone away from his ear and winced as the other person shouted into the speaker, obviously pissed out of his mind. "I'm going to go now, alright? Quit calling me," Merlin snapped, and hung up his phone, shoving it in the drawer next to his bed. Luckily they didn't call back, and Merlin was able to fall back asleep quickly.

He had no morning classes, thankfully, so he had a nice little lie-in. Lance came in for a couple of minutes, rushing to gather his class materials and tell Merlin he owed them biscuits and that he was sorry for yesterday. Lance was always sorry for something, Merlin noticed early on. He was too nice and too noble, though he often did things without really thinking them through.

Merlin eventually got out of bed to go downstairs and eat a late breakfast of oatmeal and bananas. He had his headphones in, listening to his French lesson as he made a mental list of what he'd have to do today. He had laundry, which Lance refused to do on account of the last time he tried, every white thing of his and Merlin's turned pink. He also had vacuuming, and he had to restock their mini fridge. And he had his thesis on Modern Art and how it reflects society's viewpoint on current issues that he was dreading.

"Ow!" Merlin's hand flew up to his ear, scowling across the table at whoever had violently pulled his earbud out. "Wha—Arthur! You prat!"

"We're even," Arthur said jovially, "So, what are you up to?" Arthur was talking to him like they were the best of friends, which they certainly were not.

"Breakfast," was Merlin's answer, and he scowled once more for good measure, hoping Arthur would get the hint and bugger off. He didn't. He just kept sitting there, eating his own breakfast, an apple, and staring at Merlin. It was a little unnerving and a lot creepy. But Merlin was doing a pretty good job of ignoring it.

"Well, it was nice eating breakfast with you, Merlin," Arthur stood from the table, still smiling in a way that made Merlin feel uneasy, "Next time maybe you won't look like something crawled up your arse the whole time."

"Next time, right," Merlin rolled his eyes and watched Arthur and his weird self leave. If they didn't hate each other so thoroughly, that could have actually been viewed as a nice breakfast; quiet, spent with a would-be friend. But no, they've been at odd and ends with each other since they met, and not even Lance could make them become best buds, like he seemed to want to do.

---

This time, when the phone rang, Merlin answered it right away. "Who is this?" he snapped.

"Hey, Merlin!"

"Who is this?" Merlin repeated, flopping back onto his bed and closing his eyes. Lance was on the other side of the room, snoring (even though he swore he doesn't snore).

"Listen, Merlin, friend, amigo," the voice was definitely drunk, "You've got a nice arse."

"Excuse me?" Merlin hissed, blushing despite being the only one to hear that.

"And also, you're'n idiot. Mhm, mhm. An idiot with a niiice arse," whoever it was went on for a while about Merlin's arse and idiot-ness, and Merlin listened almost politely. Then the call was dropped after the sound of vomiting took over the sound of the stranger.

Merlin sighed and put his phone aside, staring up at the ceiling. "Merlin?" Lance mumbled, "Who was that?"

"I don't know. Somebody's been calling me for the past three days, drunk," Merlin answered, "Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

"Mmkay," Lance answered, and was quickly back to sleep and happily snoring.

---

Sunday was the day Merlin went to visit Gaius and help in his shop. He'd run errands and do stock for him. And then Gaius would buy them both dinner and they'd talk about how Merlin was doing in his classes and how his roommate was and all the things that father's normally asked their sons. And as stand-in father-figure to Merlin, Gaius felt obligated.

On his way home in the cab, Merlin's phone beeped at him, alerting him to a text message.

'were r u?' Merlin recognized the mystery number and frowned.

'None of your business. Who is this?'

'y r u not home?'

'I went to visit somebody. Why?'

'i'm waitin for you'

'What?'

But there was no reply after that, and Merlin was a little freaked out that whoever it was knew he wasn't home, and was (supposedly) waiting for him at his dorm. So Merlin didn't return to his dorm that night. Instead he stayed with Will at his flat and listened as Will shagged whatever tart he had brought home that night.

He left early in the morning, stepping over lacy, frilly articles of clothing that weren't his or Will's that he didn't want to think about much. When he got back to his dorm, he found it blessedly free of his stalker, and of Lance. He had every intention of lying down and taking a nap until his afternoon class, since he was a little deprived last night, but whoever it was that knocked on his door ten minutes later derailed that notion.

"It's unlocked!" Merlin called, hoping it was just Lance who had forgotten something, as he jammed a pillow over his head.

"Where were you last night?" Merlin pulled the pillow off his head and glared at Arthur, who had wandered in and made himself at home on Lance's bed.

"None of your business," Merlin replied, with a sudden sense of déjà vu. "Why?"

"I was looking for you," Arthur said, going through the things in Lance's bedside drawer, uncaring or unaware that he was making a mess.

"You were…looking for me," Merlin said disbelievingly, frowning at Arthur. Arthur shrugged, and continued to go through Lance's stuff. Merlin shook his head, his brows furrowed. So…Arthur was looking for him. When he was gone. And he knew that Merlin was gone. And so did the mystery caller, who was waiting for him the night before. It suddenly clicked. Merlin pulled his phone out and scrolled through his calls, finding the mystery number and pressing 'send.'

It was a few seconds before Arthur's phone began to vibrate and sing out 'Too Much Booty in the Pants.' Merlin's lips quirked a bit at the song choice, ducking his head as Arthur answered his phone. "Hello?"

"So, I have a nice arse?" Merlin asked, and Arthur's head snapped up. He narrowed his eyes and shut his phone.

"I didn't know it was you," Arthur said quickly, shoving his phone in his pocket.

Merlin arched his eyebrows, smirking slowly. "Yeah? So you didn't know it was me you were calling at ungodly hours of the day to tell me my arse is nice?"

"Yeah…I mean. No. It's just…I, uh," Merlin smirked at Arthur's stuttering, extremely amused. He'd never seen Arthur so flustered before. Arthur, who was always so cool and collected, even when he was being a prat.

"Does Lance know?" Merlin asked.

"Know what?" Arthur took a brief break from trying to explain himself when Merlin spoke.

"That you've been booty calling me?" Merlin asked, waving his phone at Arthur.

"What! I haven't been…That's not what…" Arthur was turning red. Merlin didn't know if it was from embarrassment or anger, but it was more fetching than ugly. "And besides, even if I were, which I wasn't, it would be none of Lance's business," he snapped, and Merlin frowned.

"But I thought you two were…you know," Merlin made a vague gesture with his hand.

"We're just friends," Arthur informed him in a clipped tone.

"With benefits," Merlin added unnecessarily.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, "I guess you could say that," he muttered, looking away and flopping back onto Lance's bed.

"So, why did you call, then? If they weren't booty calls?" Merlin asked, sitting cross legged on his bed and pulling his laptop towards him.

"I was drunk," Arthur explained.

"Yeah, I could tell. Three nights in a row, that's pretty impressive," Merlin began tapping away at his keyboard, "But there has to be another reason why you kept calling me. I mean, one night is understandable, an accident. Two times is even forgivable. But three times and weird, cryptic texts about waiting for me? How did you even get my number, anyways?"

"I got it from Lance," Arthur said dismissively, acting as if Merlin hadn't said any of the things before. Merlin wasn't having that.

"Arthur, listen. I don't like you, you don't like me. But for some inexplicable reason, you think my arse is nice, and I think that maybe sometimes you're not so much of a prat. And just maybe you might have booty called me," Merlin paused to let Arthur sputter his protest before continuing, "But why are you here right now?"

Arthur looked over at Merlin, frowning. "I…don't know," he answered honestly, and they both fell into an uncomfortable silence. "Let's just say, hypothetically, that I did booty call you," Merlin snorted and Arthur glared, "This is hypothetical, Merlin. But let's just say…That I did. Would you be receptive to that?"

Merlin snapped his head up from his computer and gaped, actually gaped, at Arthur. "Did you really just ask me that?"

"Shut up. It's hypothetical. Just answer it," Arthur snapped.

"I don't do booty calls, Arthur. Or one night stands. Or friends with benefits," Merlin informed Arthur, closing his laptop and setting it aside.

Arthur sighed, sounding dejected, turning away from Merlin, "Yeah. I figured. I just thought maybe…"

"Well you thought wrong," Merlin replied coolly, sliding off his bed and making his way quietly towards Arthur.

"I don't know why I thought to ask that. We can just forget I ever did. And that I called you. I thought that maybe you didn't really hate me, because, you know, I kind of like you. And your mum makes some pretty kick-ass biscuits," Arthur sounded almost miserable.

Merlin frowned as he knelt on the edge of Lance's bed, placing his hand on Arthur's shoulder and turning him around. "My mum's biscuits are pretty good," Merlin agreed, staring down at Arthur, whose head was tilted as he stared up at Merlin, his lips pursed in confusion. "I don't do any of those things, Arthur. But if you're willing, I'm willing to give an actual relationship a try."

Arthur looked as if he were about to say something, but Merlin shut him up with a kiss, which was surprisingly rather good despite the awkward angle and the sudden surprised gasp of Arthur and his too greedy lips. They broke away with twin looks of confusion.

Arthur scowled up at him, "Don't do this just to humor me, Merlin. I know you don't like me. I don't need a pity fuck or anything."

"It's not a pity fuck. It's not a 'anything' fuck. It's not even a fuck," Merlin told Arthur, stooping down for another kiss, which was a little more coordinated than the first one, but just as good. He pulled back, and now they shared the same dazed expression. "Yet," he added belatedly.

"I'm willing," Arthur began, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of Merlin's lips, "I'm willing to give this a try. And before you say anything about me just doing this to get into your pants, that has nothing to do with it at all," Merlin gave him a dubious look, "Well, okay, maybe just a little bit. But seriously, you really do have a nice arse, can you blame me? But I've always kinda liked you. I mean, I know I'm a total dick to you, but you're actually kind of everything I like about a bloke. You never take any of my shit, and you're funny, and smart."

"You can stop praising me now, Arthur. I think you won me over when you admitted to being such a dick," Merlin said, grinning as he bent down to claim another kiss, this one more heated than the others. This time neither of them wanted to break it to speak. But neither of them had to break it, because Lance was very adept at breaking it when he busted into the room.

"Oh, hell no, not on my bed!" he shouted, stepping forwards and invading their personal space by shoving them both off his bed. Merlin fell on the floor in a mess of gangly, bony limbs, his cheeks a flaming red as he covered his face with both of his hands. Arthur landed next to him, laughing so hard that Merlin was worried he might crack a rib. Once the commotion finally calmed down a bit, Merlin crawled over to his bed and flopped down on his belly, his face buried in the pillow. He felt somebody, probably Arthur, drop to the edge of the bed and put his hand on the back of his knee, rubbing absently.

"Finally hooked up, huh? Thank god," Lance asked, and Merlin turned his head to glare at Lance as Arthur snorted in laughter.

"We didn't hook up. And what do you mean, 'finally?'" Merlin asked.

"Arthur's been head over arse for you since that time you dumped your orange juice on his pants for insulting Gwen's frock," Lance informed him.

"It's 'head over heels' and it wasn't a frock and how come I never knew this?" Merlin asked Arthur. Arthur just shrugged.

"He's not good with feelings," Lance answered for him.

"And you're okay with this?" Merlin asked Lance, who seemed completely not at all put off by the fact that his roommate and his (now former) friend with benefit were together.

"Sure, why not? Just don't shag on my bed," Lance shrugged, dropping back to his bed, settling his headphones on over his ears and shutting out Arthur and Merlin.

"Well, we have his blessing," Arthur said, nudging Merlin's legs. Merlin rolled over and sat up, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Yeah, that's just…it feels weird," Merlin sighed, looking off to the side. "So…do you have like, some kind of weird orange juice fetish, or any other weird fetishes I should know about?"

Arthur shrugged, crawling on the bed towards Merlin, pushing his knees apart so he could situate himself in between them and press Merlin against the wall, effectively trapping him. "I do have a penchant for making drunken booty calls."

"Not just hypothetical ones?" Merlin asked, his brows arching.

"Shut up," Arthur shut him up with a kiss, which Merlin laughed into as he curled his arms around Arthur's shoulders, pulling him in closer.

They both ignored their phones for the next half hour, since they weren't accepting anymore booty calls. Hypothetical or not.