Start the New Year Sloshed Not Angry
Merlin chuckled as he hurried past yet another group of more-than-slightly-tipsy villagers, who had eagerly started celebrating the New Year early. Like most of the other servants (excluding the lucky ones like Gwen, who had a kind mistress like Morgana) he was still hard at work and no doubt would be all the way through to the next year. His face turned stormy. It was all Arthur's fault. Arthur was the one who kept Merlin running to and fro with an endless list of demands, Arthur was the one who had to invite so many damn guests, and Arthur was the one who had the bloody idea of a party to begin with!
Before he realised it Merlin had reached the glossy wooden doors to the devil's very own domain. Carefully entering the room Merlin hurriedly dumped the precariously wobbling stack of party tack in front of the prince with a furious glare for good measure.
"There! Streamers, banners, hats, ivy ropes, silk hangings, party games, the band has been ordered, the kitchen staff are cooking the meal, and you have every servant running themselves ragged getting the hall ready." Merlin drew a great breath before he gritted out the last words of his rant, "Will that be all, sire?"
With far too much calm arrogance Arthur leaned back in his chair and surveyed Merlin with cheerful, very amused blue eyes.
"You look cute when you're angry." Roaring with utter rage and frustration Merlin stormed out of the room amid Arthur's gales of laughter, succeeding in (unintentionally) knocking more than one poor serving lad with towering piles of decorations off their feet.
The party was in full swing, red gold and white banners of finest silk hung from every wall, topped with ivy ropes and scarlet streamers that twined together elegantly. The floor shone brightly (And rightly so after all that scrubbing! Thought Merlin sourly) under the swishing velvet dresses and coattails of dancing guests who, in a moment of sheer festivity, had donned ridiculous hats of scrap parchment made by the children.
Merlin however was not enjoying himself. After several hours on his hands and knees with the other servants washing and waxing the floor to a gleam he was aching far too much to dance, and even if he'd tried Arthur would only have pulled him away to drag him along to stand beside him in boredom like he had been doing all evening. Why the prince was doing this Merlin couldn't fathom, but it really was incredibly irritating.
Relief came swiftly though, for all the guests had stopped in their rhythmic swaying and were waiting in an excited hush. As the countdown began Merlin noticed Arthur walking very unevenly towards him, looking – in Merlin's words - hammered off his arse.
"Ten, Nine-"
"Arthur you're completely smashed!" Merlin shouted over the countdown, holding on tightly to the Arthur's shoulder's as he crashed into him drunkenly. Arthur giggled ecstatically, apparently finding the whole situation highly entertaining. Oh he'll pay for this… thought Merlin with yet another glare. At this rate he'd burn a hole right through the prince's skin!
"See! You look so cute when you're pissed at me."
"Seven, Six-"
Growling in the back of his throat Merlin attempted to hoist Arthur into a more respectable position for a prince put Arthur was having none of it. Slinging an arm round Merlin's shoulders he caused Merlin to stagger under his weight, now just trying to stay upright.
"No really, your ears go pink and your eyes go all sparkly!"
"Four, Three-"
Blushing under Arthur's appreciative gaze Merlin finally managed to straighten again, smacking away a rogue hand that wandered too far south.
"You are so wasted Arthur. You don't mean this."
Trying to look far more sober than he was Arthur stared straight into Merlin's stormy blue eyes with intense (if slightly glazed) eyes.
"I'm the prince. I say what I always mean."
"Two, One, Happy New Year!"
And before Merlin could laugh at the absurdity of the situation, or Arthur could notice his jumbled words the prince surged forward, clumsily kissing Merlin half on the lips and half on the chin. Shocked, Merlin forgot to recoil at the overpowering taste of alcohol on Arthur's breath and simply sunk into the kiss. They went unnoticed by the other guests, all too caught up to notice the Crown Prince of Camelot snogging his country boy servant in the corner. The kiss broke and Arthur grinned dopily, still incredibly intoxicated, and leant his forehead against Merlin's.
"Happy New Year Merlin."
"Happy New Year… Prat."