tampered | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

When: ~~Mid-afternoon~~ The Evening of March 23rd.
Rating: PG13
Characters: Arthur, Merlin and anyone at the Pevensie Mansion (aka, Edmund)
Summary; Merlin's a lightweight and guess who was told to come fetch the wizard? None other then Arthur. Oh, there's going to be a bit of hell to pay...
Log; For the umpteenth time, Arthur drags Merlin back up by the shirtwaist. "Do try to keep... moving your feet or something, will you Merlin? You're making this much more difficult then it needs to be." Of course, Merlin getting drunk at all (and without even Arthur in attendance!) was a something he'd have to address later.

Merlin was his servant! In a strange land such as this, there were protocols to be observed and getting drunk before Arthur's barely been here a day was plain irresponsible. And if he had one more woman pinch his butt...

At least they were within sight of the door. Next time, Merlin can find his own way home.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Merlin normally makes a point of not drinking so much. He knows he can't quite handle his alcohol, he just... didn't know this would be the way going with the Weasley twins and their friends would end up. He can at least think that much, but at this point, he honestly just finds it horribly funny.

Which is why he's laughing pretty much the whole way, and more than happy to lean on Arthur for support. Such a caring friend he has!

"Sorry! I can't seem to find the ground," he snorts, and tries getting a proper grip with his feet again.

It's amazing Merlin hasn't broken a seam in his pants yet with how often he stumbles.

"Well find it. I refuse to carry you any further then I have to." Which, to say, was not at all. Carrying a wounded man off the battle field was one thing, Merlin was another. He's put on weight.

"Look, we're just outside the house. Make it there, and I'll find a nice comfy chair for you sit on. Surely even you can manage another ten feet or so." Arthur hauls Merlin forward another foot or so. Goodness, the next thing we'll know, Merlin will be puking in the bushes.

Oh, psh, Merlin's so used to stumbling about that he's got skills in it, Arthur. Get with the program.

"Working on it," he says, moving a hand to grip onto Arthur's shoulder because, oops, there he goes stumbling again. "Might help if you stop for a second."

Just to, you know, give him a moment.

A nice, comfy chair sure sounds... nice, though, so he'll try his best. Walking is hard. Always has been, hasn't it? Even more of a reason not to drink this much. How did it happen again?

But the porch is just right there. Stopping out of sure confusion and frustration, he'll give Merlin that second to regain his feet, keeping a careful arm out to steady Merlin should he topple again.

Truly, he was far more trouble then he as worth.

Merlin was also all he had.

"Better?" Arthur actually waited for a reply. If they were going to keep going, he wanted Merlin more than ready for it because he wasn't going to stop a second time!

Oh, wow, Merlin's not quite sure he actually expected that. He probably didn't, seeing as he stumbles because of Arthur stopping, and grabs onto him a little better, firmer, to keep himself up. But finally he regains his footing properly, and as long as Arthur doesn't literally haul him along again, it should be fine.

Until he trips again, but maybe he'll last until they reach the house.

He nods, with a grin. "Better. You're a good friend, Arthur, you know."

Watch out, he might get sentimental.

Face it, Merlin. You're all Arthur's got at the moment otherwise he would leave you face down in the nearest bush. He has more worthwhile ways to spend his time For instance, he could be staring out at the lawn and sulking at the distinct lack of sudden scenery changes. A highly useful passage of time, don't you think?

Ahem. "You've been drinking; everyone is your friend." But he's smiling a little as he marches forward at a slightly slower pace, just looking ahead and not at all at Merlin. It'll only take a moment to open up the door and shove Merlin onto the bench just inside too, now that they've managed to travel across half the city and the massive estate grounds.

Which, of course, brings us to today's scheduled lecture as Arthur stares down with his arms crossed. It was something he had dearly wished to do at the bar, but with the audience and the crowd bumping into him every two seconds, it was just not possible. "Now, why don't you explain to me just why you felt the need to go drinking? Surely you're not so bored as that." Alas, this Arthur is not yet familiar with Merlin's insatiable appetite for beer. A minor failing of observation, alas. Then again, that would mean Arthur would need to admit he's been watching...

Oh, yes, so very useful, the most useful in existence. Arthur does so know how to pass the time in a worthwhile way.

Merlin doesn't answer at first, and instead chooses to focus on walking because apparently he can't really do both things at the same time right now. It's only when he's finally sitting that he opens his mouth to talk, but then Arthur interrupts him. Oh!

But he needs to say something.

"No, no," he says, grinning and shaking his head. "You're the very best friend, you know, and I don't feel I've been fair..." He trails off, clears his throat and grins even wider. "They asked! I didn't mean to drink so much, really, but they wanted me to try this, and that, and... Well."

He makes a vague motion with his hand, and goes into a fit of giggles.

"Here we are!"

There's that word again, friend and goodness help him but he can't help but think that Merlin's been a better one. What does Arthur do? Mope around the house, poke at wall sockets and generally get in the way?

Even Arthur can only take so much of that.

"Yes, I can see that. And you are going to have one hell of a headache in the morning unless I miss my guess."

Arthur shakes his head, almost helplessly. "What am I going to do with you, Merlin?" No, in all seriousness he does have to wonder. It's going to take a lot of work to get him to bed and he certainly can't leave him there in the foyer, tempting as that is.

Well, Arthur could afford getting a job or something, but as long as he doesn't make too much of a mess around the house for Merlin to clean up when he gets home, Merlin isn't going to complain. Besides, if Arthur really needs something, he's only a phone call away.

Unaware of Arthur's problems, Merlin just beams at him, content to perch on the bench, fingers closed around the edge as he wags back and forth.

"I dunno!" he offers helpfully.

They do have a housemate that Arthur could call for, for some extra help.

"You could sit here with me. Maybe you could grab something from the kitchen. It would be fun!"

A housemate that is no doubt sleeping at this godforsaken hour of the evening (by Camelot hours. It's after nightfall after all.).

"Oh, fine. Some food might actually do you some good. Did you forget to eat while you were off drinking down half of the City?"

And... yep. Arthur's dragging Merlin's sorry butt off the bench and shoving him towards the kitchen (gently, he doesn't want Merlin to lose his feet again). As if he'd actually play fetch... besides the obvious fetching of Merlin of course.

Oh, it's hardly that late. Ed does run a pub. So he might... actually not even be home.

"I didn't drink half of the City. I just helped with it." Yeah. Something like that.

He stumbles with it, but he manages to stay on his feet, at least. Shame, though, he was getting rather comfortable on that bench.

"Either way you're still drunk as a horse." Arthur wraps an arm down Merlin's waist, hauling him down the hall as fast as he dared. Really Merlin, call someone else next time. Arthur has better things he could be doing. Like rearranging his sock drawer.

Once in the kitchen, expect to be dumped in the nearest chair with a back while Arthur goes rooting around the cabinetry. There has to be something readily made to eat.

Maybe?

Right, that is so much better. Even in this state, Merlin knows Arthur doesn't really have much to do. All the more reasons to call him.

Merlin doesn't mind getting dumped like that. In fact, he seems rather completely content, and happily perches there as he watches Arthur move around. Hah, Arthur is actually fixing food for him!

"The City will probably be good for you."

Don't get your hopes up. All Arthur finds is a block of cheese and a af of a bread. Have at, good Merlin.

"This City will be the death of me, as are you."

He leans on the counter before shuffling around and getting out a knife. Maybe he'll just make himself the food and leave Merlin to starve.

Nooo, no starving, Merlin doesn't want to starve. Block of cheese and bread is looking pretty great in his eyes, honestly.

"Nah, you'll be fine. You're Arthur!" he exclaims with a huge grin and spreads his arms, all like it's the most obvious thing in the world which, really, it is. Come now.

He hides a smile behind the fringe of his hair as he carefully, very carefully, cuts the bread.

"And I'll believe that once you're sober. Now eat up." He slides bread and cheese across the table, pleased indeed. Merlin was right. He is Arthur. He was made of sterner stuff then this.

It's a little endearing to watch Arthur settle into a life where he doesn't have much status, aside from the occasional people who know his name. Merlin pretty much drapes on the table and raises up only when he pretty much gets the sandwich in his face.

"Good. Long as you believe it soon." He happily grabs the sandwich and takes a bite. Oh, sweet heaven food.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only