Disclaimer: Mmmm, if I owned Merlin, do you realize the sort of power I would have? I'd have a small army at my command. Like, JK Rowling could take over a few continents, if not the whole world, so I figure I'd at least be able to take over a small city or something—not that that's something I'd ever do. I've certainly thought about it before... But I haven't conquered any cities yet, so there's your answer.


31 Days of Christmas

Day 12:
Eggnog


Fic:

"Mmm, one more—one more cup." Arthur slurred, reaching for a pitcher setting on the table between him and Merlin. Merlin reached a hand out to stop him, his movements loose and shaky with the drink that coursed through him and made the world spin by and his words come out almost as slurred as Arthur's.

"Noooope. You've had enough."

"I am the king," Arthur insisted, still grabbing for the pitcher. "And you are a servant. If I want another drink, I'll—I'll have another drink."

"Mm-mm," Merlin shook his head and took the pitcher, slid it out of Arthur's grasp to the side of the table. "You're drunk, mlord." He pressed his lips into a straight line, shaking his hazy head as he watched Arthur, his cheeks pink as he unsuccessfully reached again for the pitcher. Giving up a moment later, he slumped down in his chair, almost pouting as he eyed the pitcher with want.

"I'm not drunk you're drunk." He grumbled.

"Mmm, that I am." Merlin chuckled in agreement. He could barely remember the feast they'd been at only hours before. A visiting king had introduced them to a drink that was spiced and cold and oh by the way had hard liquor in it that not even Gwaine usually ingested in such quantities as the people at the feast were doing that night.

But Arthur had enjoyed it; he had downed a couple of goblets full of it before Merlin had insisted that he get up to bed. And even then, he had grabbed a full pitcher of it from the table and taken it with him. Merlin had been hoping to convince him to just leave it on his table and crawl into bed without incident, but the king had somehow managed to convince him to drink some with him.

Now the pitcher was almost empty and both men were clearly inebriated.

Arthur giggled, hiccupping with the action. "You are such a lightweight, Merlin." He laughed again, Merlin joining him. "And your face is so… piiiiink."

"So's yours, idiot."

"Yeah, but you look adorable with-with your face all pink like that. And your ears—they're turning piiiiink too!" he laughed again. Merlin shook his head, his stomach beginning to ache from all the laughing they were doing.

"You are such a prat." Merlin slurred.

"And you a dollophead."

"That-that's my insult! You can't just… take it like that. I want it back!"

"Mmm, I can't do that, Merlin."

"Why-why do you say my name like that? Merlin? It's just 'Merlin.'"

"I dunno. Because I'm th' king and I will call you what I wish, Merlin."

Merlin laughed again, collapsing further into his chair as their laughter bounced off the walls around them.

Still laughing a moment later, Merlin stood up, and carefully held on to the edge of the table as he walked over to Arthur.

"What are you doing?"

"You have to go to bed," Merlin said, tugging Arthur up by the arm. "Biiiiiig day tomorrow. Treaty signings and—and stuff."

"Stuff." Arthur repeated with a nod of his head, allowing Merlin to pull him to his feet. Clumsily, Merlin led Arthur over to his bed and tugged his shirt off. "What did they call that drink again?" he asked, kicking off his boots as Merlin dropped his shirt to the floor. He fell back onto his bed, not bothering to let Merlin pull off his pants or put his nightclothes on him.

"Ahm… I think something like… Egg n milk punch, butthen Gwaine called it—he called it… Eggnog?" Merlin offered, trying to remember against the fog the conversation that they'd had as Merlin had served him and the knights earlier that evening. He sat down on the edge of Arthur's bed then, falling backwards ungracefully as the room began to spin even more than it already had been. Arthur hovered above him, his pink and grinning face not near enough for his taste.

"You an Gwaine are good friends, yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. He's my favorite knight. After Lancelot, anyway." Merlin nodded.

"I thought I was your favorite knight?" he asked, his face offended.

"Noooooo, but you are my favorite king."

"You like Gwaine better than me, don't you? Lancelot too! Why don't you like me, Merlin?" his face was blotchy, almost like he might start crying.

Merlin shook his head. "I like—I like you too, Arthur."

"But you like-like them, don't you?"

"Gwaine an Lance are just—just friends. Gwaine's with Perce and Lancelot's with Gwen, you know that."

"But you like them better than me, don't you? It's because I'm so mean. It's not my fault. I'm only—only mean to you because I don't want you to know."

"Don't want me to know what?" Merlin asked, squinting up at his king. He pursed his lips and watched Arthur look away.

"I can't tell you—it's a secret."

"I won't tell anyone."

"But everyone already knows."

"So why can't you tell me?"

"Because you're the one who can't know."

"So tell me and then I won't have to not know anymore 'cause I'll already know."

Arthur turned back to him, looked down at Merlin in a way that made him flush even pinker than he already was.

"That makes sense." He nodded. "Okay, siddup." He grabbed Merlin's hands and pulled him so he was sitting next to him. He fell back down a moment later, however, giggling as he shook his head.

"Why don't I stay down here and you stay up there and tell me what I'm not supposed to know?"

"That makes sense, too. You really are smart sometimes, you know that, Merlin? I don't give you enough credit sometimes."

Merlin nodded, mouth open just so as he looked up expectantly. He got the vague feeling that he might not remember this in the morning, or if he did, he would certainly see it differently than he was now. But Gwaine had something along those lines, too, hadn't he?

Merlin didn't drink much, despite what Arthur thought, and he certainly had never had as much as he had tonight, so he didn't know what to expect come morning, really. But for the moment, he was warm and laughing and looking up at Arthur and all he really knew was that there was no place his drunken mind would rather be.

"Arthur, what issit already—"

Arthur interrupted him then, leaning down to sloppily press his lips to Merlin's. Merlin closed his eyes, feeling Arthur's lips on his own numb ones. He was aware of Arthur's hand coming up to the side of his face as he melted into the bed, the swirling and spinning world ceasing to exist as their drunken lips melded together. It was sloppy and hurried and tasted like liquor and the loss of inhibitions, but, to Merlin's drunken and cloudy mind, it was the best kiss he had ever had and would ever have.

"That's what I couldn't—couldn't tell you." Arthur murmured, his lips pressed just near Merlin's ear now. Merlin nodded.

"Funny, I couldn't tell you the same thing."

"Imagine that." Arthur said, kissing him again for a long moment. They laughed again when Arthur pulled back and then collapsed on the bed next to him, his eyes slipping shut half-way.

"'Night, Merlin." Arthur whispered, turning on his side to face Merlin and tucking himself close to him.

Merlin tucked his arm behind his head, his own eyes starting to close against the haze and warmth brought on by something other than the eggnog coursing through his system.

"'Night, Arthur." He mumbled back, leaning close to him to press a light kiss to his forehead before slipping into slumber himself, barely aware of Arthur's face pressing against his neck and mumbling incoherently against his skin in an almost ticklish sort of way.

Fin.


I've never been drunk before, but sssshh, no one else needs to know that. I did hella research to try to make drunk!Merlin and Arthur seem convincing, so hopefully I did all right with it.

Always,
Hisa-Ai