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English
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Published:
2020-03-16
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1,635
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1/1
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Each Coming Night

Summary:

A night at the tavern with the knights means a very drunk Arthur, who also happens to be utterly in love with Merlin.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

   It’s a wonder that Arthur is able to just be human in public, to get drunk, to laugh and joke and jest, to be normal, but that’s a testament to his skill as king. Every citizen of the kingdom knows the story of when Arthur fell headfirst into a barrel and had to be helped by the baker’s son. Every citizen knows about the time he forgot to tie his laces and tripped whilst on his way to go hunting. Every citizen, save perhaps the children, has seen him absolutely pissed off his head in the tavern. Yet, they all utterly respect him and follow his every order. Practically every citizen would be absolutely willing to die for their sweet, disastrous, clumsy idiot of a king and he would die for any one of them. So he quite often goes into the lower town and spends a night, quite drunk, with Merlin and the knights.

    Arthur wraps his arm around Merlin’s shoulder and the latter can feel the drunkenness in the way which the arm flops onto him. It’s quite a rare occasion in which Arthur actually gets drunk, rather than just having a pint or two, but when he does, he doesn’t like to do it by halves. It’s only Percival, Gwaine and Arthur left drinking alcohol. Merlin prefers the slightly lightheaded warmth of a few drinks so that’s what he sticks to. Leon and Elyan tend to remain on the more sober side of tipsy. Percival, with his bear like build hardly feels the effects of any alcohol whatsoever and is only now, after eight drinks, slurring his speech slightly. Gwaine, as everyone knows is a serial drinker and has drunk many a pint of ale from every pub around, though he may seem quite rowdy, he’s perfectly able to handle himself as well as his drink. Arthur on the other hand is giddy and sappy and goofy. Every few seconds he turns and smiles, with all his teeth, at Merlin. He laughs for exceptionally long at every joke, however unfunny. And his movements are very similar to that of a sloth. Merlin would be lying if he said he didn’t find it very endearing.

    There’s also the added bonus that drunk Arthur is a very unreserved Arthur. His hands are constantly on Merlin: on his hair, his arms, his back, his hands. His entire abdomen is practically draped over Merlin’s torso, as the latter attempts to keep up reasonable conversation with the knights. How this man can be a decent, nay good, king is a wonder to Merlin, yet, he is.

    Leon and Elyan become rapt in a discussion about the tactics of war or something that Merlin doesn’t entirely understand and Gwaine and Percival laugh and smile in a way that seems quite private, so he takes a moment to look at Arthur, with hair that’s practically a bird’s nest and a face shaped into an impressively placid grin. Merlin looks upon him and smiles. His boyfriend turns and whispers into his ear, his voice, slurred by the fermented hops in his many drinks, but entirely sincere, quietly says:

   “You have nice eyes.”

   Merlin laughs at the absurdity of the statement, the fact that the man he has been in a relationship with for near two years is drunkenly flirting with him. And flirting with him really quite poorly at that. He really is a complete disaster. (Whilst also being incredibly competent and skilled but Merlin would never say that, not out loud and certainly not to Arthur, his ego is inflated enough).

   “Thank you, your majesty ” Merlin replies, laughing, and trying to force Arthur to retain some decorum. It fails.

   Arthur clumsily presses his hand to Merlin’s mouth and shakes his head “Nnnno,” He says, making speaking look like the epitome of effort.  “I don’t... I don’t like that.” He takes his hand not on Merlin’s face from the table and points it at his chest. “Arthur. Arthur. Not... not a title. No. Arthur.” He concludes like a toddler who thinks they’ve just presented a wonderful speech.

   Merlin nods and moves Arthur’s hand away from covering his mouth. “Ok, Arthur, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry.” He says, very patronisingly, but this tone of voice is clearly lost on Arthur.

   “Good.”

   “We should probably get back. You’ve got meetings tomorrow and council sessions and all of that, you can’t be too hungover for that.” He says, looking at Arthur’s flopped body.

   “But I’m king”

   “I know. You still have a job to do.”

   “Mmmmmmmhh” Arthur says and hits his head on the table.

   “Alright there, princess?” Gwaine asks.

   “He’s annoyed because, just like everyone else on this planet he has to do work.”

   Gwaine laughs.

   “Wanker.” The king says, turning his head, still on the table, to look at Merlin, a betrayed look on his face.

   Merlin places his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and rubs lightly. “Come on, lets go.”

   All the men stand up, although Gwaine only with some coercion from Percival, who shares an eye roll with Merlin about their respective annoying, drunk, and vaguely useless partners. They all walk out the tavern, with a grateful hand wave to the landlord and smiles to the other people inside they leave.

   Arthur’s arm is wrapped around Merlin’s shoulder as they walk down the street, Merlin wraps his around Arthur’s abdomen so that the drunken mess doesn’t veer off into a wall as he has done so many times before. It doesn’t, however, stop him from tripping on a cobblestone and when he does, Merlin nearly toppled over with him.

   “You are such a plonker.” Merlin smiles down at Arthur as the latter stumbles his way up to standing, with a little help from the wall.

   They make it back to Arthur’s chambers, which at this point were practically Merlin’s too, without too many mishaps. By this point, though, Arthur is completely reliant on Merlin, the alcohol having well and truly kicked in, who sits him down on one of the chairs so they can get ready for bed. He walks over to the wardrobe and takes out some of his own nightclothes that are now kept in there as well as some for Arthur, who he notices, upon turning around, is just grinning goofily at him. He may be a pillock when he’s drunk it at least he’s sweet about it. Merlin throws the shirt at his face.

   “You missed.”

   Merlin nods and smiles, he was hardly going to not miss, was he? Arthur begins to try and take the shirt he is wearing off, though, in reality, all he succeeds in doing is tangling it around his abdomen and arms. God, he’s fucking useless.

   “Arms up, sire.” Merlin puts on the voice he wore for the first few years of knowing Arthur: the servant voice.

   Arthur obeys, but, muffled by the shirt, says, “Arthur, not titles. Don’t like them.”

   His head and torso escape the shirt, hair a mess flattened against his head. He smiles up at Merlin, “Pretty.”

   “Mmhm, thank you.” He may pretend to be nonplussed and slightly exasperated, but Arthur’s constant drunk compliments are nice, really. He walks over to pick up Arthur’s nightshirt from the floor.

   “No shirt.” Arthur says, wrapping his arms around Merlin and spinning him round, to press a kiss on his surprised lips.

   Merlin pushes back against Arthur’s chest “Mm mm, Arthur, no, you’ve got to go to sleep.”

   “Pleease.” He replies, kissing Merlin again.

   For a bit, Merlin forgets and leans into it then remembers; he pushes Arthur’s face away from his own, his fingers between their lips. “Arthur, as much as I’d love to, and you know I would, you are completely and utterly leglessly drunk and your hangover will be bad enough. It’s bedtime, mate.”

   Arthur’s face forms a pout but he doesn’t resist when Merlin steps away. That is, he doesn’t resist until Merlin too is shirtless, changing into his nightclothes, and a bit distracted. When that happens sober Arthur can hardly resist kissing his boyfriend, so drunk Arthur really has no chance. He kisses Merlin tenderly and wraps his arms around him, one around the shoulders, the other his lower back. Merlin’s arms move into Arthur’s hair and he kisses back, clearly the alcohol has had some effect on him too. And they stay like that, kissing, for quite a while as they so often do these days.

   Until, Merlin speaks into Arthur’s lips, a bit of his sanity returning, “Arthur... Arthur, we need to... you’re drunk.” He doesn’t, however make any effort to move away, in fact, as Arthur begins to softly kiss his neck, he sighs softly and presses his mouth to the top of his boyfriend’s head. Then, finally, his logical brain manages to break through his hopelessly in love one. “Arthur, really...” he moves away, “Arthur, bed.”

   “Ooooh.” He winks and raises one eyebrow.

   “No, no, bed-bed, sleep-bed.”

   “Cuddle-bed?” Arthur slurs, looking up sweetly through his eyelashes.

   “Ugh, yeah, yes, sure, if you fall asleep. And you have to fall asleep. That’s non-negotiable” He sighs. “God, you’re going to be awful in the morning.” He adds quietly to himself.

   Merlin quickly puts on a nightshirt before climbing into bed with his sweet, clueless, drunk boyfriend. Who also happens to be king. How he manages to is a wonder to Merlin, but does that really matter when he’s cuddled up so close and smiling up at him, already falling asleep, one arm wrapped around Merlin, the other under his head like a small child. Why would he even need to be a king when he’s so bloody cute.

   And, yes, Arthur is a tired, hungover, irritable prick in the morning, but Merlin doesn’t mind, not really, how could he?

Notes:

What did you think? I hope you liked it, it may have a bit of an odd narrative because I started writing it a while ago and then picked it up, but I really felt like writing fluff today!