AN; Slashie slashie slash slash! (Translates this into many different languages and then uses interpretive dance) You don't like, you don't read, you don't flame me and tell me what a sick little person I am. Now that we have that cleared up, I'll get on with it, shall I?

Summary; Artha Penn finds a VERY drunk Moordryd Payne stumbling around. What will he do with him?

Rating; Uh, Pg-13 maybe? For drunkenness and possible hugging?

Artha dragged the stumbling teen back into the stables, growling. Trust himself to find the one person he wished never to see while he needed help. Moordryd was mumbling something under his breath that sounded like counting, but he couldn't be sure.
"Geez Payne, you're not even old enough to drink yet! How in the world did you get this smashed?" Artha groaned. "Well, at least you're a happy drunk"
"Smashed? When did I get smashed? What smashed?" Moordryd asked, confused. He looked around, as though it was something he could see. "You idiot..." Artha rolled his eyes. "You have no idea what I'm saying, do you"
"No!" Moordryd smiled. He looked around. "Where are we going"
"We're going to the stables since I doubt your father would be happy about me dragging you back to the citadel...like this"
"My father'd skin you alive and feed you to Abandonn!" Moordryd threw his arms up and fell over.
"Oh scales...why me?" Artha raised his eyes to the sky. He hauled Moordryd upright again and snorted. "What you say"
"Nothing, nothing"
"You talk weird..." Moordryd giggled.
"Did you just...giggle!" Artha yelled. Moordryd looked confused again and tilted his head to the side.
'Moordryd Payne just giggled...' Artha was in shock. 'He just'
"I'm bored!" Moordryd whined. "Well too bad." Artha growled back. He hauled Moordryd into the stables and was relieved that no one else was there. Artha forced Moordryd to sit.
"What in the world am I going to do with you?" Artha whispered to himself. Moordryd sat with his legs crossed, pouting. He glared at Artha for a second before just staring off into space. "Well, uh, you should get some sleep." Artha said quickly. "But there's no bed." Moordryd pointed out. "No there isn't. There never was. We all sleep like this"
"Okay." Moordryd yawned and plopped himself down. He looked up at Artha with big grey eyes. "Your house burned down"
"Yeah." Artha growled. "Because of your father'
"Yeah..." Moordryd said dreamily. "I told him not to, but he never listens to me"
"You tried to stop him burning it down?" Artha snorted. "Yeah right"
"I did!" Moordryd mumbled into his arm, which he was resting his head against. "Never wanted to hurt anyone"
"You must be really drunk." Artha snorted. He lay down in the blankets which made up his 'bed'. "Are you mad at me?" Moordryd asked , sounding a little more like Lance then the leader of the Dragon Eyes and his mortal enemy.
"No." Artha sighed. "I'm not mad at you"
"Good." Moordryd mumbled again. Artha could hear Moordryd moving and he suddenly the white haired man collapsed next to him. Artha yipped in surprise as Moordryd nuzzled against his side.
"What in the world are you DOING"
"I'm cold"
"Well go be cold somewhere else!" "Don't want to. I like being cold here"
"Oh for the love of... Fine." Artha sighed, too tired to argue. "But you won't like it in the morning, I can promise you that"
"You're warm..." Moordryd yawned. He closed his eyes and smiled. Artha unconsciously began to play with Moordryd's hair. The other teen smiled wider, a very strange look on the usually smirking face.
"Enjoying yourself there?" Artha snorted.
"Mmmhm." Moordryd murmured.
"You're hopeless, you do know that"
"Mmmhm"
"You're going to kill me in the morning..."

And that's it. That wasn't so bad, now was it?