Title: Shut Up, And Pass Me The Fucking Tequila
Fandom: Merlin
Character/Pairing: Arthur/Merlin, with a decent amount of Morgana and cameos by Gaius and Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,703
Summary: For dollsome - Arthur, Merlin, Morgana; drunk. Takes place in the fashion!AU verse.
Notes: OK, now this is the longest thing I've ever written. I regrettably announce that the drunken debauchery that was supposed to ensue dissolved into Morgana and Arthur bitching, which dissolved into schmoop (seriously, there are like 300 words just describing a kiss). I JUST CAN'T STOP MYSELF, GUYS. Enjoy!




“Gaius, I really think you should just sit down,” Merlin said, frantically trying to keep a hold on Gaius’ suit jacket and lower the man onto one of the plush, white chairs that surrounded the ballroom at the same time

“Nonsense, my boy!” Gaius boomed, swaying on his feet and attempting to take another gulp from his wine glass. Merlin tried to wrestle the vessel out of the older man’s grasp, but his efforts only resulted in most of the contents spilling down the front of his borrowed tux.

Sighing, Merlin plopped down on one of the chairs himself. Gaius had steered himself out onto the ballroom floor, grabbed the nearest person (who happened to be Lillian, the formidable head of Human Resources – a rail thin woman in her sixties who looked equally as drunk) and attempted to lead them both in a waltz. Merlin couldn’t help thinking that for such a ridiculously boring social event, there were a surprising amount of people who were beyond wasted. Most of them old.

Merlin was distracted from that entirely fascinating train of thought when he felt his cell phone buzzing in his suit pocket (it had, thankfully, survived the encounter with Gaius’ glass of wine). He flipped it open, finding an extremely succinct text message from Gwen.

RM 412. NOW. – G

***

Merlin had barely knocked on the door of room 412 before it was flung open by a panicked Gwen. “Oh thank God, you’re here!” she exclaimed, pulling him inside by his tie. “I have to be at the airport in an hour and I need –” Gwen paused and sniffed the air. Sighing, she placed her hand on Merlin’s shoulder and said slowly, “Merlin, how much have you had to drink?”

Merlin furrowed his brow in confusion before realizing to what she was alluding. “Oh, oh. No, I haven’t had anything, it was –”

Gwen cut him off, interrupting, “Great! Now, I’ve got to run – family obligation, long story – and you need to make sure those two don’t accidentally burn down the building, or push someone off a balcony.” She gestured vaguely at the adjoining door.

“Who –”

“Arthur and Morgana, no, I don’t know where they got the vodka, but well…the damage is done. Right, I’ve got to be off now. Remember, be firm, and don’t budge when they try to ply you with sexual favors.”

“Sexual favors?”

“Ah, yes. Long story short, Pendragons get extremely touchy feely when they’re drunk. Just – try to keep them in the room, or at least the hotel, and make sure they don’t harass anyone. Oh, and don’t let Arthur near any fires, trust me, it’ll be painful for everyone involved. Thanks Merlin, I owe you one!”

“But –” Gwen pressed the room key into Merlin’s hand and dashed out the door. Sighing, he turned towards what was apparently the door to Arthur and Morgana’s room. The thing was looking more foreboding by the second – Morgana’s girlish giggling was weirdly intimidating.

Steeling himself (for what exactly, he didn’t know, but it was probably doomed to be something mentally scarring), Merlin opened the door quickly – like pulling a bandage off, he reasoned.

He was spectacularly relieved to find that Arthur and Morgana were only channel surfing. Almost immediately, he let his guard down and walked into the room.

That was when things started to go terribly wrong. Or terribly right, depending on your perspective.

***

Fifteen minutes later…

Morgana liked Merlin’s hair. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. It was really soft, and properly long, and threading it through your fingers felt amazing. “MERLIN,” Morgana said loudly as she attempted to plait Merlin’s bangs, “I think I like your hair better than Arthur’s!”

Arthur muttered a weak, “Hey!” in protest, but then got a strange look on his face and ran a hand through Merlin’s hair experimentally. Morgana swatted his hand away – he was totally messing up her plaits.

“Um, that’s nice, Morgana,” Merlin said, fidgeting beneath her hands. Morgana thought he looked extremely uncomfortable.

Apparently, she’d said that out loud, as Merlin began mumbling under his breath and gesturing vaguely at her chest.

Morgana looked down. Damn. Her breasts were awesome! “I know, right?” she said, sticking her chest out further, “My breasts are the best. Right, Arthur? Arthur.”

Frowning, Morgana pushed Merlin’s head to the right a bit to get a look at what Arthur was doing. He…seemed to be staring intently at Merlin, a dreamy expression on his face. Morgana knew that face. It was the harbinger of phone calls at three in the morning , and Arthur having random bursts of jealous rage, and being a total dick about most things. Basically, it sucked.

Morgana felt she probably ought to be thinking something along the lines of, ‘Oh great, he’s in love again. And I’ll have to listen to him be all weird and overly manly about it for the next month’ but she couldn’t help being slightly gleeful. Merlin was adorable, and pretty, and sweet, and adorable, and nice, and not, like, a drug addict, and did she say adorable?

“You’re so adorable!” she exclaimed, “Especially when your hair’s all tufty,” for some reason, Morgana felt Merlin really needed to know that.

“It is…” Arthur said moonily, smiling like a love struck idiot. Which he was, so.

“I am so not drunk enough for this,” muttered Merlin.

“Oh! That totally reminds me!” Morgana hopped off the bed, and stumbled over to her suitcase. She reemerged with a bottle of tequila in one hand, and several shot glasses in the other.

***

Merlin stared at the shot Morgana had shoved under his nose. Well, he thought, one couldn’t hurt.

***

Three shots later…

“Um, I’ve never…had sex with anyone in this room.” Merlin figured this was a subtle enough way to find out whether Arthur and Morgana had had sex before. Although the phrasing had made a lot more sense in his head, to tell the truth. Apparently, all this alcohol was impacting his judgment more than he’d realized.

Arthur shrugged and took a drink, but Morgana’s shot remained perched on the bedside table.

Giving Arthur a weird look, Morgana said, “There’s only three people in this room, moron.”

“Yes, I know. Wait, why aren’t you drinking?”

“Uh, because we’ve never had sex?”

“Oh, yeah? First year of university, spring break in the Alps.”

“Just because we woke up mostly naked – and I still had my pants on, thank you very much – in the same bed, it doesn’t mean we had sex. And I was totally, well no, mostly, sober that night. I would have remembered something. Unless you were so horrible I got my retinas scrubbed, and my brain bleached.”

“What – I was horrible? That’s really rich coming from –”

“Shut up, and pass me the fucking tequila.”

***

Six shots later…

“I’ve never –”

“Arthur, we’re playing Truth or Dare now, get with the program.”

“Fine,” Arthur sniffed, still more than a little pissed off that Morgana had implied that he was bad in bed during their sex-that-may-or-may-not-have-been-imaginary. In front of Merlin, no less.

…not that Merlin’s opinion was all that important to him, or anything. He just didn’t want his reputation to be ruined. Right.

“So truth or dare Arthur, God…” Morgana muttered, tapping her fingers impatiently. Arthur wondered what he had done in a past life to get stuck with such a bitchy drunk for a best friend. Sure, Morgana went all bimbotic and ditzy at first, but as the night wore on, the more alcohol she consumed, the more likely she was to hit you on the head with something heavy.

“OK, dare,” Arthur said quickly, lest Morgana decide that she needed to get violent (she got weirdly strong when she was drunk. And even though he could totally take her, it’d be bad. Because Morgana was a girl, and you just didn’t hit girls. Yeah).

Smiling wickedly, Morgana said, “I dare you to make out with Merlin.”

Arthur blanched. Merlin choked on his swig of tequila. Morgana just looked ridiculously smug.

Arthur decided that he was going to murder Morgana tomorrow.

***

Merlin viewed Arthur’s rapidly descending mouth with trepidation, but the alcohol running through his veins gave him an extra burst of courage, and he tilted his head up to meet Arthur halfway. Arthur’s lips were hot, almost burning, and Merlin gasped sharply, parting his lips and letting Arthur lick his way (slowly, deliciously) into his mouth.

Arthur tasted of alcohol, but also toothpaste and orange juice. He kissed Merlin softly, but firmly, and he was doing this thing with his tongue and God, Merlin didn’t even know, it was like his brain had short-circuited, or something. He’d never had much experience with kissing, except for Gwen that one time before his fifteenth birthday, and that was really less of a kiss and more of an awkward clashing of teeth.

But this, with Arthur, it was – it was completely different. Merlin felt like he was flying and falling all at once, and it was amazing.

***

Kissing Merlin was nothing like Arthur had ever imagined. Not that he’d done much imagining or – oh…fuck it. Arthur imagined kissing Merlin all the time, usually with various clichéd happenings and dialogue worthy of a bad soap opera.

But unlike in his fantasies, Merlin didn’t kiss with much finesse. He went about it clumsily (like he did most things), but with so much raw enthusiasm, and Arthur could feel himself, dear God, swooning.

When he kissed Merlin, Arthur didn’t think about how hungover he was going to be for tomorrow’s afternoon shoot, or how his foot was asleep, or what the quickest way to get in Merlin’s pants was (OK, so Arthur was kind of lying about that last one, but he was a man for God’s sake, it was only natural).

When he kissed Merlin, Arthur felt the urge to carve out a place in his heart for this gangly, big-eared, Irish boy he barely knew.

When he kissed Merlin, Arthur felt safe.

…and there he went with the promised dialogue worthy of a bad soap opera.

***

Seven minutes later…

Wow, Morgana thought absentmindedly, I’m a genius.