bitchprince (
bitchprince) wrote2010-10-24 07:10 am
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Room 406 at the Arms Hotel, Saturday Evening
Arthur and Merlin had stumbled into the room with one or two or three glasses of something alcoholic in them, by the time they'd been through with everything and... everything. Arthur's mind was pleasantly fuzzy as he ambled for the stereo almost immediately, poking at the rack of CDs and then poking at the machine itself.
"I remember," he said, drawling slowly, as if he was terrified he would trip over a syllable and cause a truly tremendous accident, "I remember how these work."
He jabbed the on button. The whole thing lit up. "You see," he said, turning around and wagging a finger in Merlin's general dir-- oh, that was right in front of Merlin's mouth already. "...I remember."
"I remember," he said, drawling slowly, as if he was terrified he would trip over a syllable and cause a truly tremendous accident, "I remember how these work."
He jabbed the on button. The whole thing lit up. "You see," he said, turning around and wagging a finger in Merlin's general dir-- oh, that was right in front of Merlin's mouth already. "...I remember."
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He rubbed at Merlin's back with one hand in order to... keep him upright.
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"Oh, I think you did."
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And he was going to argue that until he passed out, too.
"You are."
He nuzzled at Merlin's hair.
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Merlin grinned, clumsily pulling Arthur in the direction of the bed again. "Completely pissed."
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Yes, only sometimes.
Sigh, Merlin.
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Bugger the breeches, thought Arthur, who crept into bed next to him and threw an arm over the lad. He was cold, and had apparently forgotten about the blankets. Merlin would do.