A/N: Hello, Everyone! I've been reading Merlin fanfiction for some time and decided to attempt my own. What was supposed to be a short, 500-word piece turned into this. The whole fic is about drinking, which is why it is a T-rating. Otherwise, nothing else warrants higher than a K general. Enjoy!

Just One Drink

Arthur's favourite nanny used to always say, "Everything in moderation." She used to say it after Arthur sprained wrists and ankles in early training or when he tore the pages out of the book he was decidedly (not) studying. She said it when Arthur wanted more sweetmeats after supper or asked for warm milk before bed or tried to sneak an extra sausage from the kitchen following breakfast. She said it in the mornings, in the evenings, in the afternoons, in the Arthur-was-supposed-be-sleepings. She said it everywhere, all the time.

Clearly, the axiom didn't apply to itself.

His favourite nanny believed it so much that when she finally got fed up of Arthur feeding himself extra everything, she asked the cook to make as many sweetmeats to fill a tableful, sat Arthur down, and told him to eat every single one before he went to training.

And his father happened to be at that training session, during which he threw up over his armour. Three times.

Arthur now hates sweetmeats.

This was to Merlin's advantage since the sweetmeats the idiot consistently brought up to Arthur's room always were thrown at Merlin with the reminder never to bring them again. Merlin ate them.

And then brought sweetmeats again.

If Arthur stopped graciously offering the sweetmeats to Merlin every time he brought them, then Merlin might actually stop bringing them, but Merlin was an idiot and forgot to eat, and truly it reflected on Arthur if Merlin the idiot fainted because the idiot forgot to eat breakfast. Did Arthur mention that Merlin was an idiot? Clearly, Merlin needed a little more sustenance than Gaius' porridge – and something with more flavor, too, though that requirement wasn't difficult to fill at all.

What Merlin did not need was to go to the tavern for days on end. Clearly, he did not know Arthur's nanny's favourite phrase.

So Arthur was going to teach him, just as he had been taught. And, really, wasn't Arthur a good master for taking so much interest and care into his servant's life? Not to mention, he would buy the whole tavern if it meant Merlin drank enough never to drink again.

Ironically, the problems started with actually getting Merlin to the tavern.

"No!" Merlin tried to yank his arm out of Arthur's grip. Futilely, of course. They were only past the gates of the palace itself, heading towards the lower town, and Arthur had just revealed his gracious gift of two barrels of mead that Merlin was going to drink every drop of. "Arthur!" Merlin disagreed with . . . well, with everything Arthur had just explained, but that wasn't necessarily new. "I don't want to go to the tavern!"

"You want to go every other time," Arthur said, idly noting that no one looked even remotely interested that their king was dragging a kicking and screaming Merlin down the street. Granted, there were few about so late in the evening, but Arthur still thought that spoke (or shouted) about him and his manservant's relations more than he cared to admit.

"I don't-! Argh!" Merlin huffed, still tugging at his arm. Arthur tried to loosen his grip a bit. Merlin would be the one to break his own arm. "I have other jobs to do right now! You never want me going anyway!"

"Yes, but now I do. I just bought you two barrels of mead."

"Yes! Exactly! Two barrels of mead! Nobody drinks that!" Merlin paused a moment. "Except maybe Gwaine, but that's besides the point."

"That's exactly the point," Arthur stopped for a moment, grinning at Merlin. Judging from Merlin's face, it may have had a slight manic tinge to it. "Anyone who drinks as much as Gwaine could do it, and I think we have the perfect candidate right here. Don't we, Merlin?"

Merlin's jaw dropped open in disbelief. He snapped it shut. "No. We really don't."

"Right," Arthur agreed.

He began walking again.

"Arthur!"

"Merlin!"

Merlin huffed again. "It sounds better when I do it."

Thankfully, Merlin chose not to continue dragging his feet otherwise Arthur was pretty sure that he would have had to pick up and carry the idiot. However, Merlin's constant stream of complaints continued all the way to the Rising Sun.

"Gwaine!" Merlin called happily, breaking free of Arthur's grip (Arthur let him) to rush forward and trip onto Gwaine. "You've got to save me from Arthur!"

Gwaine nodded. He lifted Merlin back to his feet and shifted him to the side, stepping forward. "Done." He folded his arms and glared at Arthur. "Princess."

"Gwaine," Arthur drily said, "how many have you had already?"

"Enough to have improved my fighting f-finesse by at least ten Percivals."

"Ten Percivals?" Merlin wrinkled his nose.

"And enough to no longer make sense," he snapped (sluggishly moved) into a fighting stance. "Princess."

"I'm here to get Merlin drunk."

"Oh," Gwaine abruptly stood, clapping Merlin on the back with a large smile. "Why didn't you just say so? I've been trying to get him drunk for ages."

"Gwaine!"

"He's drinking two barrels of mead."

"I am not!"

"Come on, Merlin," Gwaine soothed, reaching out and snatching Merlin's arms even as he tried to dart away. "It's just one drink."

"Bollocks!" Merlin called though he didn't struggle against Gwaine nearly as much as he did with Arthur.

"Just one drink," Gwaine pleaded, sitting himself and Merlin down at a table. Arthur yanked a chair from another table and sat down.

"Two barrels," Arthur demanded, folding his arms and using his best king voice. "Merlin is drinking two barrels."

"Just one drink, Merls."

Right. Both Merlin and Gwaine were impervious to his king voice. Where was Guinevere when you needed her?

Merlin pursed his lips, peering at Arthur. He raised an eyebrow, speaking to Gwaine as he continued looking at Arthur, "One drink and then you'll get me out of here?"

Gwaine made an odd sign with his hand in front of his chest. "Knight's honour."

Merlin snorted.

"You don't scoff at a knight's honour," Arthur said, frowning.

Merlin's eyebrow rose further. Had he been taking lessons from Gaius? "I'm scoffing at Gwaine's." He leaned towards Gwaine. "Swear it on the best bottle of mead you've ever tasted."

Gwaine's eyes widened. He leaned back, tapped his chin, furrowed his brow. He took a deep breath and put a hand over his heart, closing his eyes. "I swear to Merlin of Ealdor that after you completely drain one tankard of drink, I will help you leave this fine establishment. I so do swear this on the finest, most delectable, downright sinful bottle of mead I have ever tasted." He peeked an eye open, looking at Merlin. "Will that do it?"

"Eh," Merlin shrugged. "But it's a deal anyway."

Both men grinned. Arthur fumed, glaring at Gwaine. "Gwaine-"

"Relax, Princess. Hey, Susan," Gwaine called one of the bar maids over. He gave her his best smooth smile. Arthur could tell because the knight suddenly looked constipated. In Arthur's opinion at least. "Susan, my loveliest, could you pretty please get me one glass of my special?"

"I thought I was drinking mead?" Merlin straightened suddenly, almost falling out of his chair. Arthur sighed and pulled Merlin's chair in more. Only Merlin.

Gwaine waved a hand as Susan began nervously eyeing Merlin. "Mate, if you're going to drink only one drink, I'm going to make it the best. Susan, love?"

Susan stopped biting her lip to smile at Gwaine. "Um . . . sure. I'll go get it."

Merlin stared after Susan for a moment before turning to Arthur. "You're still paying for this, right? Because I don't have any money on me, and it seems really rude to make Gwaine pay when you're the one who dragged me here-"

"I wanted you to drink two barrels of mead! Not one drink!" Arthur snapped. Gwaine winked at him, making a fist and tightening his muscles. Why . . . ?

Oh.

Oh.

Arthur huffed, kicking the table a little even though kings didn't do that just because Merlin expected it. "Fine. But next time we come, you're drinking those two barrels, and Gwaine isn't going to get you out of it."

"Nah, I'll help you get through it. After all, what are friends for?"

"For what indeed," Merlin snorted again.

"Here you are," Susan placed the tankard in front of Gwaine and watched with wide eyes as he pushed it to Merlin.

"There you go, mate. One tankard."

Merlin stared at the not-mead before giving Gwaine a dubious look. "And all I need to do is drink one tankard?"

Gwaine nodded. "One tankard, but I would suggest-"

Merlin's hand and the tankard flew upward, and he chugged the entire thing.

"-not taking it all at once."

Merlin brought the tankard down on the table with a surprisingly decent 'thunk.' He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Done. Let's go." He stood.

Gwaine shot to his feet. "Uh . . . yeah. Let's go." He tried for a smile, wide, panicked eyes meeting Arthur's gaze as Merlin turned around and began striding out. Gwaine snatched Arthur's arm, gripping it with maybe one Percival. "That's not supposed to be-! He wasn't supposed to-!"

"That's quite dangerous, Sir Gwaine," Susan interrupted mildly, chewing on her lip again. She blushed under their stares and retreated by a step. "I just mean, he lives with the Court Physician, so maybe you should take him there right away and pay later?"

Gwaine nodded furiously. "Yes. Let's. Now."

Arthur ripped his arm away from Gwaine and only walked at a fast pace (certainly not ran) to the door. "If it was so bloody dangerous, why'd you give it to him!" Arthur snapped as he opened the door, scanning the street.

"He was supposed to drink it slowly! How was I to know he was going to drain the thing in one go?!"

"It's Merlin's Law," Arthur stated, unable to see stated idiot. "Anything that can go wrong will."

A loud crack with accompaniment echoed from around the corner. They ran.

Merlin stood, soaked to the bone, the remains of a barrel scattered all around him. "I don't . . . want to drink two b-barrels of mead!" he cried, trying to cross his arms and succeeding after a few attempts, sobs getting louder. "I don't wanna!"

"Water," Gwaine swore. Arthur chose to ignore his poor choice of words. "Merlin!" Gwaine happily called, stepping towards Merlin with his arms open wide. Merlin turned his head, chest heaving with quieter sobs. "My friend, would you be so kind to escort me to the castle? I'm a bit drunk."

"You're. Alwayss. Drunk. All the time," Merlin waved his hand flippantly. Took a deep sigh. "Always, Gwaine. Literally."

"I know," Gwaine nodded slowly, stepping closer like Merlin was a spooked deer. "I don't know what I'd do without a good friend like you, Merls."

Merlin nodded furiously. "Yeah. Mmhp. You'd die. Like . . . all the time. You'd be dead. Literally."

"Literally," Gwaine solemnly agreed.

Idiots.

"We're taking you to Gaius," Arthur strode forward.

"No!" Merlin screeched, stepping away, slipping and falling. "I don't wanna go! Leave me alone! Gwaine! Gwaine!"

Great. Even when drunk Merlin appeals to the knight.

"How about we take a walk, Merls?"

"Okay."

Arthur could have hit him. If he wasn't drunk. Or already an idiot. Arthur really didn't see what 'worse than this' would look like.

Gwaine helped Merlin to his feet, really just picking him up. Merlin leaned completely on the other man but still had the mind to glare at Arthur with his eyes squinted into little beady dots. "Come on, mate," Gwaine encouraged, beginning to lug Merlin across the slippery ground, unable to avoid the pieces of wood everywhere.

Arthur stepped forward to try and help. "No! No! Nonono!" Merlin cried, trying to back further into Gwaine. Arthur stepped back.

Gwaine glanced at Arthur's face, his hands that gripped Merlin tightening slightly. "He's just trying to help, Merlin. That's Arthur. Remember? That's Princess Arthur over there."

Merlin's head was shaking back and forth almost like a wet dog. "No! No! He wantss me drunk! I can't get drunk, Gwaine! I c-can't!"

"Okay, okay," Gwaine said, pressing Merlin against him more so the man would stop rattling the few brains he had left. Arthur wished he could feel more triumphant about the guilty look on Gwaine's face.

Why didn't Merlin want to get drunk?

Arthur frowned.

"Arthur's going to promise not to get you drunk, okay?" Gwaine said, face still twisted. "Right, Arthur?"

"Right. I promise, Merlin. I won't get you drunk." He'll find another way. Alcohol was a little more dangerous than sweetmeats.

Merlin sniffed a few times. Peered at him again. Looked to Gwaine. Peered at him. He sighed, dropping his head, "Fine."

Gwaine snorted a little, but that stopped at Arthur's glare. Arthur took Merlin's other arm over his shoulder, and the two began lugging him back to the castle.

"Ugh," Gwaine groaned. "Lay off the sweetmeats will you, Merls? You're a lot heavier than you look."

Merlin giggled. Arthur rolled his eyes, "You have no idea." Merlin giggled again. Then he hiccupped.

Bright pink bubbles popped out of his mouth. The men stared at the floating, glowing orbs as they gradually rose into the sky.

"What was in that drink?" Arthur asked.

Merlin laughed. He gasped, collecting himself, face scrunched up. He burped.

A great green bubble that could not have possibly fit into Merlin's mouth burst out of it, the quiet but clear sound of someone burping continuously emitting from it. Merlin roared with laughter, falling down completely and nearly dragging Gwaine and Arthur with him. Still gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face, he clawed his way into a semi-standing position, not doing anything this time as a stream of blue bubbles streamed from his mouth, all of them saying in oddly squeaky voices, "Prat. Prat. Prat. Prat."

Gwaine coughed as Merlin collapsed again, heaving with laughs and lack of breath. Gwaine's eyes drifted to Arthur's over Merlin's crumpled, shaking form. "Arthur, Merlin would do anything for you."

"Gwaaaaaine," Merlin whined, gasping but quickly catching his breath. "I don't like such malisch- . . . maulecious- . . ."

"Malicious?" Gwaine suggested.

Merlin nodded, "I don't like such mauscious lies about me." He paused, cocking his head slightly. "Esspecially when they're true."

Gwaine looked to Arthur. Arthur looked to Gwaine. Arthur took the fact that his manservant was a lying, loyal, bloody sorcerer, put it in a box, locked it, and shoved it into a corner labeled "Tomorrow's Problems." Yes, that sounded nice.

"Come on, idiot," Arthur sighed. "Let's get you inside."

This seemed to be enough for Gwaine. It also seemed to be the affirmative for Merlin to continue making bubbles that he then turned into hordes of butterflies that then tried to carry Merlin away until Arthur yelled and made Merlin cry and wasn't he a horrible person? Why couldn't Arthur see how hard Merlin worked for him? He was an utter prat and dollophead with a cabbagehead to boot and would be the absolutely best king ever who Merlin would die for in a second, he swears, even though he thinks he might be immortal, which would suck, but he'd do anything for Arthur because the fairness and justiceness and equalityityness of Arthur's super, super sublime reign would go all over the place, all over Albion, yes, and he'd be legendary, and he's such a good king. And a prat. Really, an absolute prat. He's terrible.

At that point, they were in the hallway of Gaius' rooms. "Hmm," was all the warning they got from Merlin before his legs started floating up.

"Merlin!" Arthur hissed as quietly as he could. They had barely avoided guards to begin with. He really needed to review their rotations if they could drag a drunk, magic-spouting Merlin into the castle.

"I wanna walk on the ceiling!" Merlin whined.

"Only adults walk on the ceiling!" Arthur growled. "Which you, clearly, are not!"

Gwaine coughed lightly again, jumping up to grab Merlin's other leg and just succeeding in floating up with it. "I'll tell that to Merlin again when he's grown."

"You-! You-!" Arthur apparently was only able to repeat as Gwaine dropped back to the ground, and Merlin's feet touched the ceiling, something that delighted him if his celebratory shouts were anything to go by.

Footsteps in the next corridor. "Guards!" Arthur hissed to Gwaine, running underneath Merlin's body and reaching up to grasp his shoulder. With Gwaine on the other side, they could've been lifting Merlin up. "Act natural!" Arthur ordered as Merlin giggled on, kicking his legs in glee against the ceiling.

Gwaine snorted. "I'd like to know how any of this qualifies as your 'natural,' Princess."

Leon halted at the corner.

"Evenin', Leon," Gwaine smiled brightly (again), waving with the one hand that wasn't supposedly holding Merlin up.

"Sir Gwaine," Leon said slowly. "Sire."

"Sir Leon," Arthur nodded his greeting slowly as well. "I thought you'd be getting to bed."

Leon nodded a few times, eyes on Merlin as the idiot took a few steps forward. Gwaine and Arthur rushed to keep up with him. "I thought so, too. Sire," Leon said. He licked his lips as Merlin started tapping his foot and dancing – bloody dancing! – on the ceiling. Well, trying to dance. It was Merlin, after all. "If I may ask . . . sire . . . what are you doing?"

"We are . . . well . . . there's a perfectly good explanation for what we are doing," Arthur nodded. Merlin chose that moment to spin in a circle. His shoulders left their hands for a moment before returning. Arthur looked back to Leon, "Gwaine will explain."

"We practicing our acrobatics," Gwaine deadpanned.

Arthur shut his eyes. He hated his life.

"Acrobatics?"

Arthur swallowed hard, meeting Leon's gaze which had finally drifted away from Merlin. "Yes," Arthur choked out. "Acrobatics."

"We figured it'd be good to get Arthur out of his poetry lessons. He's developed quite a fetish."

Arthur took a deep, fortifying breath, closing his eyes again before opening them. Nope, still his life.

"Well, good night then," Arthur said to Leon, jerking his head in the direction Leon had been walking. "Don't let us keep you."

"Right," Leon's eyes went back to Merlin. "Good night. Sire," Leon's eyes stayed on Merlin, but he had begun to walk forward again, past their corridor. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

Merlin tripped.

Arthur's mouth popped open (in his defense, Gwaine's and Leon's did, too) as Merlin tripped over thin air and fell . . . on the freaking ceiling! On the ceiling, where very clearly no one and no other nonmagical force was lifting him up as he curled up and cried, an impossible amount of water falling from his place on the freaking ceiling to the ground.

Gwaine turned his expressionless face to Leon. "We've gotten quite good at it. Sleep well."

Leon's eyes flicked to Arthur. Arthur froze for a moment, then he smiled brightly and nodded.

Arthur mentally swore, using the word not-mead which was now his least favourite word in the world. They were all idiots.

Leon left. Good man. Probably needed to improve his skepticism though. Arthur took that thought, put it in a box, and shoved it in the corner of "Tomorrow's Problems." Done. He quite liked this new method of dealing with issues.

Unfortunately, that could not be done with the whole 'Merlin-is-crying-on-the-ceiling-and-won't-come-down.'

"But h-h-he hates me!" Merlin sobbed as Gwaine tried to speak with him. Arthur rolled his eyes and continued on watching the hallways for guards. Where in this my-manservant-has-magic world were they?

"He doesn't hate you," Gwaine soothed. "At least, no more than he hates everybody in general." Somehow, a trip while dancing on the ceiling led to Merlin being convinced that Arthur hated him which Arthur may have helped along with considering he did shout (in a quiet voice) that if Merlin did not come down immediately, Arthur was going to put him in the stocks forever. Because of Merlin's state, that probably wasn't the best thing to say.

"But he hates me the s-same as everybody else more!" Merlin cried.

"Merlin," Arthur ran his hand through his hair because kings certainly did not pull their own hair. Or anybody's. Yes. Kings did not pull anybody's hair. "I'm sorry. Okay? Just get down from the ceiling."

Merlin sniffed, considering him. "Why?"

"Because Arthur's going to give you a sorry hug."

"A sorry hug?" Arthur demanded.

Gwaine sent him a glare. "A sorry hug. A really super, duper, fantastic sorry hug." Gwaine looked up at Merlin. "Don't you want a hug from Arthur, Merlin?"

Merlin sniffed again. It was better than crying. "A hug?"

"Yes. A sorry hug. A really super, duper, fantastic sorry hug. Right, Arthur?"

Arthur ground his teeth together. "Right." It seemed that Gwaine would be the one going to the stocks forever.

Merlin looked between the two of them for a minute. Another sniff. "Okay." He dropped.

Gwaine rushed forward to catch him, "Oomph!"

Merlin giggled.

Arthur was going to kill him.

"Arthur!" Merlin opened his arms wide, still sitting on a squished and groaning Gwaine.

Arthur grimaced. "Definitely a three-year old." He inched forward. Merlin scrambled to his feet and lunged, tackling Arthur around the waist. Arthur grunted (in a very kingly way) as they tumbled to the ground.

"Merlin!"

Arthur's head snapped around. Gaius stood in the corridor, medical bag at his side, as he stared at the three of them.

"Gaius!" Merlin cried happily. A wave of invigorating love and dedication swept the corridor. Suddenly, Arthur was wide awake and without a bruise on him. He looked to Merlin with wide eyes. Merlin just bounded forward, tripping and falling again, before reaching Gaius and giving him a much more careful but equally energetic hug.

"S-sire," Gaius stuttered, slowly lowering a hand on Merlin's back and looking to Arthur with incredibly wide eyes. "It seems Merlin's been enchanted."

"Nah," Gwaine shook his head. "He's just drunk. Hey, Gaius, how do I get to walk on the ceiling?"

Arthur groaned and fell back on the ground.

In a very kingly manner, of course.

Merlin groaned loudly as he awoke. His head pounded terribly, his mouth was incredibly dry, and his knees and palms stung as if he had scraped them against the ground. Which he usually did, but they hurt more than usual.

"Well, well." Merlin groaned again, bunching up his pillow to get away from that horribly loud voice. "What's the saying? Ah, right. UP AND AT 'EM, LAZY DAISY!"

"ARTHUR!" Merlin yelled. Then he whimpered. "What's wrong with me?" he whispered.

"You're hungover."

Merlin froze. Gradually, he lifted his head up to look at Arthur who was looking at him with his eyebrow half-cocked. "But . . . that would mean I got drunk."

Arthur stared for a moment. He nodded once. "So it would."

Merlin stared.

"Gwaine got you drunk."

"I did not!" came the shout from the main chambers. Gwaine stomped up the stairs and swung the door open. Merlin whined and threw the blanket over his head. "Sorry, mate," and he actually sounded it, "but Princess was there, too! It was his idea!"

Merlin winced. He really didn't want to come out. He lowered the blanket, squinting as he looked between them. "So . . . I got drunk." He cleared his throat. He wasn't in the dungeons. Yet. Which was a good sign. But their faces gave nothing away. Surely Merlin would have made some fool of himself even if he didn't reveal his magic? "Anything interesting happen?"

Arthur looked to Gwaine. Gwaine looked to Arthur. Merlin immediately hated them both.

"No," they said together, even their bodies mirroring each other. Merlin's mouth popped open. He closed it. He rubbed his blanket between his fingers, cursing himself and this supposed 'hangover.' How did Gwaine think through the horses pounding in his head?

"Well," Arthur said, looking to the right and above of Merlin, "you did trip. A lot."

Gwaine hummed his agreement. "On the ceiling."

Merlin's mouth popped open again. "On the ceiling?" His voice was abnormally high.

Both men nodded and looked at each other again.

"You cried, too," Gwaine shrugged. "Sobbed really."

"But the miniature pond you created fell on the actual floor," Arthur added. "I'm sure the other servants appreciated that. Oh, you also tripped while we were walking towards the castle."

"While making bubbles," Gwaine added.

"While making bubbles?" Merlin said even higher.

"Yes," Arthur nodded seriously. "Floating, glowing, blue, pink, and green bubbles."

"That burped or said 'prat' over and over," Gwaine helpfully chimed in again.

"Ah," Merlin squeaked.

"And you tripped while ten inches tall and screaming at Gaius that his eyebrow wouldn't be able to find you now. Then you challenged me to a duel and told me I was coward for refusing to fight until you were sober and the size of an actual adult human being."

Merlin moaned, putting his head in his hands.

Gwaine patted him on the shoulder. "There, there. This will all be forgotten. In time. And once you've done stupider things while drunk."

"No," Arthur cut him off. "Merlin is never getting drunk again. Do you hear me, Merlin? That's an order. An actual one. That you will obey, or I will put you in the stocks forever."

Gwaine snorted, but Merlin was too distracted. "You're not . . . I mean . . ."

Arthur's stance softened. Infinitesimally, but it did. "I'm not going to do anything to you, idiot. Gaius explained everything last night. While I'm not glad your 'tavern' visits were more like near-death experiences, after last night I think I prefer that."

"But . . . the law . . ."

Arthur shrugged, smiling slightly. "Might need an adjustment." He shifted forward suddenly, and Merlin automatically shrunk back. A flash of hurt flew across Arthur's face, but he covered it quickly. "I need to do more research first, talking to those who remember the time before the Purge, and it will happen in small steps, but I've already made peace with the druids. We've been heading towards this for a while, even if I didn't realise it until last night when my manservant decided to give Gaius' tea cups and pot legs to dance.

"Merlin?" Merlin nodded. "Breathe."

Merlin took a deep breath, not realising he had been holding it.

"Idiot," Arthur scoffed.

"Prat," Merlin whispered. Arthur gave him a small smile. Merlin gave a blinding one back.

"But you need to apologize," Gwaine stuck his nose in the air.

Merlin's face broke. "I'm so sorry for not telling you! Both of you! I was just so scared, and you knowing put you in danger and –"

"Not for that!" Gwaine crossed his arms and glared at Merlin. "You blew up a perfectly good barrel of mead last night!"

Merlin's eyes widened slightly. "I . . . I did?"

"Yes!" Gwaine exclaimed. Merlin winced.

"Er . . . sorry? I didn't mean to. I think." Merlin shook his head. He winced again. "No. I don't like blowing things up."

"You mean you don't like blowing things up when you're drunk," Gwaine sagely said, nodding several times. "We'll have to do it sober."

"No," Arthur growled. He glared at Merlin. "You are not getting drunk again."

"Agreed," Merlin said, bringing his hand up to his forehead. "So much agreed."

"Here," Arthur handed him a small vial. "This'll help. It's from Gaius."

Merlin stared at it. Then he stared at Arthur. "And why didn't you give me this before?"

Arthur shrugged. "Did you use magic to do your chores?"

"Fair."

Arthur tried not to growl at the maid who nearly bumped into him as he went to Gaius' room. He was tired, grumpy, hurt, and angry at Merlin for starting this stream of endless council meetings about magic. His bad mood wasn't the poor maid's fault.

No, that honour went to a different servant.

He sighed. It had been a long few weeks, but even he had to admit that, concerning Merlin, everything felt . . . lighter, freer, like a barrier he never knew existed had disappeared, and as much as he complained about the council meetings, the laws did need to change, and he only had a bruise. A sizeable one to be sure, but only a bruise.

Yes, everything was busier (and more boring, as Gwaine commented repeatedly), but it was for the better. Even the legal changes were going smoother than expected. Nobody had attacked in weeks. Morgana hadn't been heard from. Things were calm. That was good. Everything could only go up.

He opened the door to the physician's rooms. Two glasses, half full, sat on the table. "Gaius?" He shook his head. Clearly, no one was in. He turned around, about to leave, when he heard a giggle.

From above.

Gwaine waved from the ceiling, a dopey grin on his face though he clearly wasn't the one drunk.

"GWAINE!"