3. Decorations

Merlin's head throbbed like some vicious sledgehammer lover was having a party inside his temples. Where was he? His bedroom. Well that was good. How had he got there? He hadn't a clue.

"My head…" he croaked, rolling over and sitting up. Where were his memories? He needed them back. He began to look under the bed for them, then realised what he was doing and fully woke up.

"Oh, please say that was a dream…" he mumbled. He had used his magic to pop buttons on Arthur's… oh god help him. He was never going to live this down. His hand, Arthur's chest, being carried

"Please say that Arthur was too drunk to remember that…" he pleaded silently. And then more memories flooded in. Last night… Arthur's shirt wasn't the only thing he had used his magic on. He got up instantly. Oh dear, Dragon wasn't going to be happy…

He ran as fast as he could down the tunnel, so fast the torch almost went out, but when he finally reached the cave, he realised he probably didn't want to be running to meet an undoubtedly, very, very angry dragon.

"MERLIN!" came the roar, luckily for him, slightly muffled by a rasping sore throat.

"Erm…"

"I suppose…" said Dragon, as he rose up from the depths of the cave to meet him, "…that you think this is funny."

Tinsel hung in long lines around the cave, interspersed with small silver bells and holly wreaths. A large pink bow with 'Merry Christmas' was tied around Dragon's neck, and an oversized Santa hat flopped over his head. A small Christmas tree protruded out of one wall. All in all, it looked unusually welcoming. All in all, it was totally unlike Dragon's style, and it showed in his expression. As his frown narrowed a few pink balloons floated up behind his left ear, and Merlin struggled not to laugh.

"Merry Christmas?" he suggested.

There weren't words to express Dragon's fury, so he turned his head to one side and let out, or rather, tried to let out a long jet of flame. What actually happened was he coughed horribly, and hawked up a large lump of phlegm.

"Well you got the colour right," Merlin said before he could stop himself. Dragon turned his head slowly to face him. Evidently he was trying very hard to restrain himself from tearing down the whole cave bit by bit and then throwing all the bits at Merlin. Suddenly Merlin clicked with the danger of being a very small man next to a very large angry Dragon. He fell to his knees.

"Please don't eat me."

"No… I have a better plan," Dragon growled. Merlin tried not to raise an eyebrow. What was up with him today? He was being far too cheeky. Dragon twitched his nose. Merlin tried not to laugh. A dragon with a cold… The effort of not laughing was too much. Part of it broke out in a big smile. Just then, a tremendous sneeze shook the cave and Merlin found himself drenched with snot. He wiped the snot out of his eyes before looking up at Dragon, disgusted. Dragon was wearing a satisfied smile.

"So," he said jovially, as sneezing over Merlin had undoubtedly been the 'plan' in question, "When are you planning to fix my cold?"

"Well, I might be able to get hold of some syrup which could help…"

"Yes? When can you get that?"

"I'd like something in return," Merlin said quietly, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck.

Dragon snorted and paced for a few moments, coughing. Eventually he decided that whatever Merlin might want in exchange was probably worth him getting his flame back. What was a dragon without flame, after all?

"Alright, lets hear it," he growled.

"I was hoping you would help me with an unusual marshmallow toasting for Christmas. You could breathe flame whilst we toasted."

"You have to be joking. Christmas! I detest it! Such a waste… and never anything for me…" he added the last part so silently Merlin only just heard it.

"I could bring you something else instead of marshmallows? Turkey maybe?"

"Hmmm…" Dragon bent his neck low so that he could look Merlin in the eye. It would have been a serious, piercing glare, but the effect was spoilt by the pointed top of his Christmas hat drooping down over one eye. Then reluctantly, he nodded. "Only if you get my flame back."

"Yes, of course. Thank you Dragon." He quickly turned and left. He had got the promised help from Dragon he needed which would add a nice twist to the usual bonfire toasting, but now he really needed a shower.

Afterwards, when he was lying on his bed, the worst of his hangover now gone, he realised that although a large amount of his memories had come back, there was one major part missing. He had fallen off his stool drunkenly, Arthur had picked him up and carried him away, he had put his hand on Arthur's chest… and then woken up the next morning. What had happened in that gap? He blushed. He hoped it was nothing either very important, because he couldn't remember it, or something embarrassing, or it would be very hard to look Arthur in the eye next time they met. Had Arthur just carried him to his bedroom and put him down before leaving? What if he had? What if he hadn't? He vowed never to get that drunk ever again. A sick feeling settled in his stomach… he really needed to know what had happened…