"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?