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Jesus had he picked the wrong time of year to come to Rome, or what? There were people everywhere. It was some kind of holiday apparently - Day of Liberation, someone had told him. Great. His luck. The queues to the Colosseum had been colossal. It had taken ages just to get in. It was just late April, who would have thought it’d be this darned hot, too? His water was almost gone, few measly drops left, and they were lukewarm, too.
He had used up all his sunscreen in Barcelona. Pack-packing alone through Europe was slowly becoming a little bit of a chore.
Surrounded by hordes of people walking the cramped circular of the ancient building, he was beginning to feel a bit lonely, too. Doing the tourist thing on your own was getting a bit old. The sight was marvellous, he had gladly shared his enthusiasm with someone else, like so many people were doing around him.
It was as if the Fates had heard him and he was whacked over his left eye with one of those pesky selfie-sticks.
"Hey! Watch it, mate!"
Merlin's left eye was throbbing. He pressed his water bottle to it, trying to take some of the hurt away, but the warm plastic gave him no reprieve. Instead he turned to his aggressor - a stupidly handsome blond with shoulders you could straddle - to give him what for - if he had had the chance….
"You should look where you’re going, mate, you ruined a perfect shot."
Merlin just gawked. The person that had so brutally assaulted him, was a posh English wanker judging by his upper class accent, and, apparently, an absolute tit.
The blond git was glaring at Merlin, apparently waiting for him to move along so he could take another selfie.
"Unbelievable," Merlin hissed.
"I haven't got all day, you know," the prat went on.
"Or, if you are going to stand there all day, you can make yourself useful and take a pic of me.”
The nerve! Merlin had a good mind to whack some sense into the numpty.
"Or you could of course apologise."
Something snapped in Merlin then. Maybe it was the scorching heat, maybe it was the blow to the head, but most likely it was the Prat with a capital P.
"You! You BRAT! YOU hit ME on the head, and you expect ME to apologise?! What makes you think I am to blame for this? You wave that stick around like you own the place and everyone has to duck for you? Are you completely mental? YOU should apologise to ME, if anything - but I suppose they didn't teach you that at Eton or Oxbride, you posh twat - Common decency!"
Merlin gesticulated wildly when he couldn't think of anything else to say, because, truly, the man was an arse.
The blond individual lowered his selfie stick and fixed Merlin with a put-off stare that made Merlin quite uncomfortable in his sweaty shorts and smelly tank top, because the man was now eyeing him up, from head to toe, like he was the most ridiculous sight he had ever seen.
"What? Are you going to criticise my attire now, make snide comments about my tatty and torn jeans shorts?"
Merlin noted that the arrogant arse was clad in super suave khaki shorts and a Ralph Lauren tee. Of course.
"One would think I had shoved up this stick up your lovely arse instead, with the stuff that spews out your filthy and lush mouth."
Merlin stared. Was the self-centred bastard coming on to him now?
"Now wait a minute," Merlin began, pushing out his chest, ready for battle.
"Aw, you are quite adorable. What is your name?" The blond ponce was grinning at Merlin now, looking way too smug for Merlin's tastes.
"You think I'm easy, too?" Merlin narrowed his eyes as far as they would go and did some quick soul searching. Why was he still talking to the numbnuts? OK, admittedly he was shaggable, completely his type, it was just that goddamned arrogant attitude that just riled him no end.
"OK, I am outta here," Merlin said finally, pressing his water bottle to the lump forming on his forehead. However, walking away from Prat Central wasn’t so easy - the aggravating Adonis followed him to the second level and right into the shop.
"What do you want, you pillock?" Merlin muttered, not to attract too much attention to their interaction. He didn’t want to get chucked out. He had wanted to enjoy this visit, maybe find a book.
"I'm Arthur. " The man was unrelenting, trailing right behind Merlin, like some beautiful blond shadow. "What is your name?"
Merlin sighed.
"Merlin, now will you please leave me alone?” he said and walked over to the book section, resolutely picking up a book on Roman architecture.
"I have come to realise how selfish I was being, my need to take a selfie at this world-renowned site clouding my judgement so completely. Hurting and then insulting someone else in the process was never my intention. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, Merlin?"
Merlin stop leafing through the book, put it down and took a deep breath, Arthur's fresh yet masculine cologne sneaking through his defences.
Maybe Merlin had had a proper bang to the head, maybe he had sunstroke, maybe he was just so damned tired of being alone all the time. He turned to Arthur.
"Can I have a go with that selfie stick of yours? About 50 street vendors have tried to sell me one, but buying would have felt like admitting that I am terribly alone and sad, so I never bought one. Always wanted to try one though, you know? Does the phone fall off easily?"
"You're rambling, Merlin."
"I know. I do that."
Arthur handed his selfie stick over, lowered his voice and whispered, "you can have my stick anytime, you adorable creature you."
Merlin blushed all over and then some.
"Let's go back outside and you can give it a whirl, Merlin."
"If you're sure?"
"Oh, I am sure, Merlin. Very sure. I owe you one, don't I? Does it hurt?"
"Nah, you barely nipped me."
Arthur's belly laugh filled the shop and the archway outside, and Merlin was eagerly attaching his phone to Arthur's selfie stick.
"Is this a good spot here?"
"Yes, Merlin. OK, give it a go then."
Merlin pressed the button.
"How’s that then?"
"Well, Merlin, it's a wonderful beginning."