Happy Merlin Holidays, okydoky! (1/2)

[merlin-hols.livejournal.com]

Title: That Night At The Club
Recipient: okydoky
Author: eldee
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Morgana
Word Count: ~13,100
Warnings: Vague spoilers for Series 3 regarding Arthur and Morgana.
Summary: They will say, long past Morgana's birthday, that it was that night at the club when things really started to happen between Arthur and Merlin. Naturally, Morgana and Gwen like to take credit, but so does Val, despite Arthur and Merlin's protests that they would've figured it out themselves. Eventually.
Author's Notes: Thanks to F for the support, and to T for the beta. Happy holidays, okydoky, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavor.




That Night At The Club

They will say, long past Morgana's birthday, that it was that night at the club when things really started to happen between Arthur and Merlin.

That isn't quite true -- things had been building for some time, for as long as the two young men had known each other -- and they all know that.

Naturally, Morgana and Gwen like to take credit, but so does Val, despite Arthur and Merlin's protests that they would've figured it out themselves. Eventually.



***


"Oh, bollocks," Merlin sighs out loud as he rushes down the street. The woman standing outside the shop looking into the window turns to glare at him as he passes by. "Oh, no, not you," he says apologetically, turning around to look at her but still back peddling down the pavement. He's late, very very late, and there isn't time to stop and offer more than a, "Sorry!"

He turns forward again -- and walks right into a rather large, burly man with a very hard chest.

"Oi, watch yourself, Emrys."

Merlin glances up into a glare that perfectly matched that of the woman at the window. And, really, what has he done that day -- other than try desperately to get to where he needs to be -- to deserve those hard looks? "Oh, hello. Um..." Merlin knows he's met this man a handful of times before but sometimes evenings at the pub get a bit fuzzy, and -- he's a mate of Arthur's from rugby. "Val! Right. Hello, Val."

Val is a big and somewhat intimidating looking man. His hair is cropped close to the head, and he rarely ever smiles -- unless it's with his mates, or when directed at a pretty lady, but then it's barely a quirk of the lips. It is rather amusing every time he gave Morgana that little smile he thought of as so sexy sly. Val's hands often curl into what looks like large hams and his body is as thick as a tree trunk, and he towers over Merlin.

Val looks him up and down -- Merlin is in his work uniform, ugly polyester brown with white and orange stripes down the sleeves and legs, with grease stains splattered across the front -- and his lip curls ever so slightly. Merlin has always had the impression that Val didn't think much of him.

Despite all that, Merlin pulls his shoulders back and stands up straight, rather than slouching over, and meets Val's gaze.

Val says, voice unusually soft for a man his size, "You look a bit in a rush today. Running late?"

Merlin doesn't have time for this today. He is in a rush and he is running late, and he's not in the mood to swallow being looked down upon.

"Yes, yes, so if you would just excuse me?"

Merlin almost thinks there's going to be trouble with this. Val has always seemed rather uninterested in him, but with Arthur not around, maybe he'd be a jerk to Merlin.

Val steps out of the way.

Merlin blinks. He's so surprised he almost doesn't move, as if he were rooted to the spot. But Val brushes past him, and throws over his shoulder, "Say hello to Arthur for me. Perhaps I'll see you tonight."

"Oh, yes, will do!" Merlin says, and he's rushing forward again.

Merlin finally makes it to the block of flats that Gwen lives at. Merlin is a bit envious of her, that she’s been able to rent out a little place of her own, but if Merlin had a steady, beautiful girlfriend like Morgana, he would have done all he could to get one for himself too, to have private space without worrying about flatmates or hushed sex in shared dorms.

Well. Change that to handsome and boyfriend and perhaps Merlin can relate a bit better.

Instead, he has a roommate called Will, a tiny flat that always has the mild smell of mold (no matter how many times Merlin's mother visited and attacked it with cleaning product and scolded them for being typical uni students, even though they told her repeatedly they did all right!), and Merlin certainly didn't have a handsome boyfriend.

But Merlin isn't jealous, he really isn't. He likes Gwen a lot; they had met in a first year uni class on the very first day and they became fast friends. Along with being her friend came getting to know Morgana, Gwen's girlfriend who is a couple years older than them. And, because of Morgana, Merlin got to know Arthur, who is Morgana's half-brother, and is Gwen and Merlin's age and in their year. And Merlin is glad for it; them, plus Will, has made the chaotic move and new life in London and starting uni bearable for the past year.

Still. Having someone might be nice, a little bit. But, on the other hand, Merlin is very busy juggling work and school and friends, so he tries to not let it get to him. He is quite content with his life. For the most part.

All right, so there is a certain blond prat he thinks of far too much, but Arthur is a friend and Merlin doesn't want to jeapordise that. Besides, Arthur doesn't think of Merlin like that, so friends it is.

As he approaches the front of Gwen's block of flats, Merlin sets those thoughts, as he always does when he needs to. There's a little metal speaker box with two columns of neatly lined buttons with chicken scratched names on various colours of paper slid into holders beside each flat number. He doesn't even need to look to find the right one for Gwen's, he's been there so often. He presses the right flat number, and gives a small prayer that it would be her, or Morgana, that answers.

There's a little crackle as a voice burst through the speaker. "Late, aren't we?"

Merlin sighs and wants to bang his head against the brick of the building. He says grumpily, "Let me in, Arthur."

There is a pause and the voice says, "I don't know if I should allow that. Late for your own friend's--"

Merlin presses the button again, the buzzing of it cutting Arthur off. Merlin snaps, "Just let me in!"

There isn't any other noise out of the speaker but in his head Merlin can hear Arthur's prattish chuckle. Of course it was him that answers and of course he'll be at Merlin for being late all night long.

The front door itself buzzes, indicating it's unlocked briefly, and Merlin pulls it open. He grumbles to himself the entire way up the three flights of stairs.

The flat is unlocked, which isn't surprising for when he's expected. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he says as he enters, closing the door behind him and flicking over the deadbolt. He toes off his shoes and drops the rucksack off his back. It lands with a light thud on the floor behind him.

Gwen pokes her head around the corner. He imagines he looks quite ridiculous; shoulders drooped down, arms hanging limply at his side, an apologetic frown on his face, bag dropped pathetically at his feet.

All right, all right, he's trying to play up the cute angle. It's worked before.

She shakes her head at him, grinning a little. "Oh, come in, you silly boy."

He smiles and knows it's worked again.

He stoops down and picks up his rucksack, slinging it over one shoulder again. He presses a quick kiss to Gwen's cheek, and then gives her the once over.

"Now, then, don't you look lovely!" Merlin says with a smile.

Most of the time, he sees her at school, in comfortable clothes and her hair pulled back, not a spot of makeup on -- the life of a uni student, she grumbles every Monday morning as they drink their cups of tea as they wait for the instructor to arrive for their eight o'clock class. And, if they're meeting for a night at the pub, but not going directly after school, she'll dress up a bit but it's usually in nice jeans and a dressier top.

Tonight Gwen looks different. Her hair is loose and the curls cascade past her shoulders. She's wearing -- for as much as Merlin can say about these sorts of thing -- a cute and little bit fancy yellow dress that flares out down to her knees, with a green sashy belt thing around the waist.

"Perfectly lovely!" he repeats.

Gwen smiles sweetly at him. "Thank you, Merlin, that's kind of you. You look--" She takes a moment to pause and frowns as she looks at him.

Merlin can admit that, at that particular moment, he looks a bit a mess, being in his greased-stained, ugly work uniform.

From behind, a voice says, "Positively despicable."

Merlin sighs and turns around. Of course Arthur is standing there. And of course he looks entirely put together and absolutely delicious. Black slim trousers that hug him perfectly right where they need to and a dark grey dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, with just a hint of light chest hair showing.

Merlin is a little bit annoyed and a little bit turned on. All right, more than a little bit. On both counts.

"I was at work. Obviously," Merlin says to him dryly.

Rather then insult him back, Arthur frowns, possibly with a bit of concern. (Not that Merlin is trying to read into it or anything like that.) "You weren't supposed to be working today, you have that paper to write--"

Merlin waves his hand, cutting him off. "Yes, well, they called and I could use the hours so I went in."

"That's stupid," Arthur says. "They always keep you late, you have revision to do, you could've missed Morgana's--"

"Yes, Mum," Merlin says, rolling his eyes.

Arthur's nose crinkles and he pulls a face. "Never say that to me again. God, what the hell, Merlin? I'm not your--"

"Morgana!" Merlin greets cheerfully as the birthday girl walks out of the bedroom. He gives a low wolf whistle. "Look at you!"

Morgana's smile is smooth and graceful, much like the rest of her. She's always a vision, dressed to the nines even when in her casual clothes, skin flawless, hair perfect, face done up. Tonight, she's in a strapless slinky purple number that stops a couple inches above the knees but with a slit up the side that goes rather high. Her make up is more dramatic than usual, and her hair is straightened rather than falling in loose curls. And Merlin is quite certain those strappy shoes she has on could be a very dangerous weapon, but they make her legs look long and lean.

"Thank you," she says, brushing past her half-brother to greet Merlin. Placing a well-manicured hand onto his arm, she lightly brushes a kiss to his cheek, barely a press and hopefully not leaving any of her dark red lipstick behind.

He rubs his skin anyway, just in case. She chuckles before moving to stand next to Gwen, sliding an arm around her girlfriend's waist.

Merlin starts to say, "I'm sorry I'm late!" just as Morgana says, "You're on time tonight, Merlin."

Merlin pauses and blinks at her untrue statement. Morgana arches an eyebrow and tells him, "You're not late."

"But, Arthur said to be here at--" Merlin trails off and turns to scowl at Arthur.

Arthur smirks and shrugs. "Is this when I'm supposed to give the Pathetic Merlin look?" He leans a bit to peek around Merlin and addresses Gwen, "I'm assuming he gave it to you when he walked through the door, yes?"

Gwen is nice and doesn't answer. But she does bite her lip as if she's trying to keep in the answer, and Merlin tries to give a put out pout. Only that it turns a bit into a grin that he's trying to hold in because, quite frankly, his friends know him too well.

Arthur ignores their looks and continues, "I told you to be here an hour ago because I knew you would be late so, look at that, you're right on time. Almost."

"Perfectly on time, thank you very much!" Merlin protests.

"Oh, how we change our tune," Arthur mutters under his breath. More arrogantly, "I was on time. Early, even."

"You only just arrived ten minutes ago, Arthur," Morgana says, shaking her head. Merlin suspects it's at the bickering, which she used to make snide remarks about. Though that had ceased after the Big Row Merlin and Arthur had last spring, in which they barely spoke for three weeks, and once they made up Morgana declared all was right with the world if the two of them were snipping at each other like old ladies with cats.

That comment alone had united the two of them against her but Morgana was tough and could take it as well as dish it out. Merlin felt that had strengthened his and Arthur's friendship, really.

"Though your plan was quite genius to get him here on time," Gwen says to Arthur.

Arthur looks too smug for his own good and Merlin gives him an exaggerated scowl.

"Very mature there, Merlin," Arthur says. "I'm surprised you're not sticking your tongue out."

Merlin is about to retort when Morgana says slyly, "Play time can be later, boys."

Both of them blink at her, and Arthur stutters, "Wha--what's that supposed to mean?"

"Not your usual articulate self?" she asks coyly. Ignoring Arthur's outraged look, Morgana turns to Merlin. She tilts her head to the side and assesses him. She waves a finger through the air, up and down, gesturing to his outfit. "I don't know if this is going to fit into dress code for the restaurant." Morgana had arranged reservations for the four of them at her favourite posh restaurant for dinner before meeting the rest of her friends at the club for the remainder of the night.

"Are you sure? I think I'm rather dashing," Merlin answers playfully. Arthur snorts, Morgana's barely blinks, and Gwen gives him a look of pity. He mutters, "Such supportive friends." He swings his rucksack around so it rests on his belly and he pats it. "I have a change of clothes. Give me a minute and I'll be ready to go."

"Oh, Merlin," Gwen says, stepping forward and taking the bag from him.

Merlin asks, confused, "What?"

She opens it and pulls out the shirt that, admittedly, he balled up and shoved in there last minute when he was unexpectedly called into work. She holds it up and, well yes, it is rather wrinkled. Gwen says, "I'll iron it. Won't take but a couple minutes."

"There's still that other problem," Arthur points out.

"What's that?" Merlin asks, already on the defensive.

"You smell like fried pork."

"I had to work!"

"You had the day off! You were supposed to be--"

"-- oh well, excuse me for not being born with a silver spoon up my arse!"

"Boys," Morgana says, stepping between them with hands up in the air.

Merlin sighs and instantly feels guilty. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

Gwen is the one who cuts in here. "It's fine," she says, a hand on his arm as she holds up his wrinkled shirt in the other. She was always a bit more sympathetic to his situation; he imagines it is difficult for her sometimes too, more so perhaps, with having Morgana being the financially stable one in the relationship. Merlin and Arthur are only friends, of a sort, and it's difficult enough.

As usual, Gwen is the buffer between the other three. She instructs, voice neutral, "Why don't you have a quick shower while I fix this up? No problem at all."

"Oh, great," Arthur says sarcastically. "Now he'll smell like girl."

Merlin throws his hands up in the air. "There's just no pleasing you!"

Although, and Merlin is not going to admit this to Arthur at that moment at all, Merlin has had to use the shower there before, after nights out when he then had to crash on Gwen's sofa. He's been rather disgruntled when coming out of the loo smelling like a flower or a citrus fruit.

"It's quite all right, Merlin," Gwen says with a bemused grin. "We've bought some manly toiletries, just for you, for occasions like this."

Merlin beams a smile at her.

Arthur snorts. "What do you two know about men's toiletries?"

"We're not idiots, Arthur," Morgana says with a roll of her eyes. With a sly smile, she adds, "Besides, I got your favourite and you do have impeccable taste."

"Oh, great, now he'll smell like me."

Merlin opens his mouth but snaps it shut right quick, biting his lower lip. There's a dirty joke in there, he knows it (and even if he doesn't say it, he sure thinks it -- if he were ever to smell like Arthur, he'd much rather prefer it to be because of reasons other than soap) but saying so will just stroke Arthur's ego and he'd never hear the end of it. Glancing at Gwen, he know she gets it too and she's trying to hide a smile.

Morgana doesn't even try to hide the smile, just smirks between the two of them, and Merlin swears there's a bit of pink coming to Arthur's cheeks, but neither of them says anything. Instead Morgana says smoothly, "No, not your brand, but the one you say you like on other men?" She waves a hand around. "You told me once you love it when--"

"Enough," Arthur snaps at her. He points a finger. "You're horrible."

Merlin smirks at Arthur as he starts to walk backwards towards the bathroom. "So, is my smell going to turn you on?"

Arthur grits his teeth. "Shut up, Merlin."

"All night?" Merlin adds playfully. "I'm going to be irresistible, aren't I?"

"Oh, go and bloody shower already," Arthur growls, throwing his hands up in the air. "You really will make us late."

"Okay, okay," Merlin says, though he doesn't stop smirking. Ducking into the loo, he hears Arthur grumbling at Morgana, and he can't help but smile when he realises that Arthur didn't bother denying being driven mad by Merlin and his smell. He knows it doesn't really mean anything, but the thought is kind of nice.

But Merlin laughs when he sees that the toiletries the girls bought for him are the ones he himself uses at home.



***



Dinner goes well, and even if there's a weird tension in the air at first a glass or two of wine settles everyone's nerves. Merlin feels a bit the odd man out, like he doesn't quite belong in such an establishment but everyone, even Arthur, tries to make him feel comfortable. It doesn't take much, really: it's great food and good company, and he's happy to have a relaxing evening with his friends. But they don't linger there too long, Morgana anxious to meet up with her other friends at the club.

Merlin always feels out of place at clubs, too. The music is loud and vibrates through the walls and floors, and it’s a jarring feeling, the thud thud that reverberates through his body. And Merlin isn’t a dancer; his long limbs always feel too awkward and uncoordinated in a crowd of people and he can’t keep them in tune with the beat of the song. It certainly wouldn’t be his first choice when deciding where to go out for an evening, much preferring the comfort of a pub.

But, for Morgana’s birthday, he’s willing to give it a go.

Especially since they’re in the VIP section of the club. This is an experience of its own, being on the list, having entrance into the back room, where the booze seems to flow freely, and pretty waitresses and handsome waiters are there to wait on hand and foot, making sure everyone’s glass is full and that the birthday guest of honour is happy with the service.

Merlin feels much more at ease being in this part of the club, rather than out with the rest of the patrons. It’s quieter and more intimate. The same music that floods onto the dance floor feeds into the VIP room, but on a softer scale that doesn’t make Merlin’s ears ring. He’s actually able to hold conversations, he doesn’t have to dance if he doesn’t pass back through that little velvet rope, and it doesn’t feel like there are any sort of expectations on him.

At least, not at first there isn’t. He learns all too quickly that’s an illusion he’s holding on to.

He and Gwen huddle in the corner with drinks in long-stemmed glasses in their hands, whispering about what other guests are wearing or making predictions about who is going to end up going home with who. But their conversation is interrupted with a call from Morgana, and naturally Gwen’s head swivels to the direction. Glancing over, they see Morgana sitting on a barstool, her legs crossed and the slit of her dress stretching to reveal her thigh. She's beckoning with long fingers for them to join her up to the bar.

"Best we not keep the birthday girl waiting," Gwen says, grabbing Merlin’s hand and tugging him along. He easily follows, and grins when he sees the scowl on Arthur’s face when Morgana calls to him the same way. The look on his face says it all: I’m Arthur Pendragon and no one beckons to me.

It’s no surprise that Arthur comes anyway, swagger to his gait as he walks through the crowd of people to make his way to Morgana.

"Shots!" Morgana announces as they approach her. Merlin looks past her and sees on the bar there are four sets of two different kinds of shots. His eyes zero in on the little glasses sitting in front, with the slices of lime and salt shaker.

"Oh, no," Merlin says, shaking his head vehemently. "No bloody way."

"What, Merlin?" Morgana asks innocently, though she doesn’t even try to look it. Merlin has become quite certain that she doesn’t even know how to.

Arthur is smirking. "What’s the matter, Merlin? We all know how much you love tequila. Or is that, love to love, after drinking tequila?"

Merlin can't help but frown at Arthur. Looking around the small group, he can tell by the little smirks and sympathetic smiles that they all remember that night. The one where Merlin had had one too many shots of tequila at the pub and while they were stumbling back to Morgana and Arthur’s shared flat, Merlin had declared his love for Arthur. Loudly. To the whole of the street, while twirling in circles in the rain.

And then promptly threw up into a bin beside a small flower shop.

Or so they told him. Merlin had woke up in the morning, curled up in a small ball beside the toilet, and had had absolutely no memory of anything after the sixth shot.

But they teased him for weeks, especially Arthur, who particularly enjoyed bringing it up to torture Merlin, even though Merlin insists it was just the drink talking.

Although, maybe -- well, the love part, that’s being too excessive, Merlin knows, so he denies anything and everything. But there is no way he would ever admit to an attraction, not after that. Arthur’s ego would swell up so large that he wouldn’t be able to walk through doorways any more.

Merlin's vowed never drink tequila again. And especially not to drink that much around Arthur ever again. Merlin is happy to report that he’s been able stick to both plans.

Even if Morgana is a harpy who was trying to destroy that.

"No," Merlin says flatly. "No way. I refuse to do this."

Arthur calls him out on it. "It’s her birthday. You have to if she says."

"It’s okay, Merlin," Morgana says with a spot of sympathy.

It might be a bit false but he tries to hold on to feeling a bit hopeful. "So I don’t have to?"

"Oh, no, you do," she says. She points to the other set of shots that sit behind the tequila. "Because we’re also doing those."

"No way," Arthur immediately protests. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse."

Merlin smirks at Arthur. "But it’s her birthday. You have to if she says," he echoes.

Arthur scowls and vehemently shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "No."

"Oh, come now, Arthur," Gwen says, though she does look rather amused, in Merlin’s opinion. "It won’t be too bad."

They are jagerbombs -- shots of jager dropped into a tumbler of Red Bull. One night, Arthur had a few of them with some of his mates after rugby. When he showed up at his flat, Merlin was there watching a film with Morgana and Gwen. And Arthur had been rather -- handsy when he sat next Merlin on the sofa. Awake and restless but rather focused on Merlin, his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, a hand resting on his thigh.

Merlin knew it was just because Arthur had been drinking. Arthur didn't really want him like that, Merlin was just there. It was the only explanation Merlin could come up with, as difficult as it was to admit it. But it had been with every bit of strength Merlin could muster that he had resisted the advances; he didn't want to damage their friendship just because they were both horny.

Merlin had tried to fend him off by wrapping himself in a blanket. It hadn’t stopped Arthur’s hand from finding its way under and inching up Merlin’s thigh, and he had been leaning in so close to Merlin that his nose practically nuzzled Merlin's ear. Merlin's breath had hitched and he'd bit his bottom lip; but when Arthur's hand came too close to where Merlin really wanted it, Merlin had jumped up off the sofa.

His feet had caught up in the blanket and he'd tumbled to the floor. Embarrassed, he got himself up, not even looking at Arthur's reaction, and then stumbled out of the flat with lame excuses of revision he'd forgotten about.

Neither of them had mentioned it since, and Merlin knew he was right to not let anything happen, even if it hurt just a little. Or, well, a lot. Their friendship had felt strained, just a little, for a couple weeks but it was all patched up and they were back to bickering with each other. All was right as rain.

But tequila shots and jagerbombs were not going to help their situation. Clearly, from past experience, it would make it worse. Merlin had no clue what Morgana was thinking.

"This isn't a good idea," Merlin points out.

"For once, I completely agree with Merlin," Arthur says.

"As much as an insult as that is, thank you."

Arthur nods seriously. "You're welcome. We'll be stronger if we both stand up to her."

Gwen shakes her head. "You two are being a bit ridiculous, don't you think? It's just a couple drinks."

"Precisely, my love," Morgana says, a hand coming to rest on the small of Gwen's back. "They are being ridiculous. Besides, it's my birthday, I'll have you do what I want. And I want to have a round of shots with the three people I care most about. Why wouldn't you want to do that?"

Merlin says plainly, "Because you're evil, obviously." Morgana only smirks at him.

Merlin cast a side glance at Arthur. His face looked stern, though it was starting to give, just a little, around the edges, softening at her words.

Merlin is not having this. Just because Arthur is known to give in to all of Morgana's whims doesn't mean that he has to.

"Why would you do this to us?" Merlin asks, pointing to the shots. "Drinks, yes. Fine. We'll have plenty of those with you! Why would you pick those ones? Can't you order different ones?"

"He has a point, Morgana," Arthur agrees. "Merlin and I would be much better off if we didn't have those. A compromise! We'll have triple shots with you if you pick something else."

Gwen and Morgana share a glance, secret in the meaning behind it, but they both look rather amused. "Nope," Morgana declines. "It needs to be these ones."

"But why," Merlin whines, not above giving a petulant pout. His hands are firmly shoved into his trouser pockets and he doesn't take a glass. Arthur does not uncross his arms.

"Well, you see, we've done some discussing," Gwen says, waving a hand between her and Morgana. "And, we want -- the two of you need -- it's for the best."

"That makes no sense," Merlin says.

Morgana huffs, clearly annoyed. "Because the two of you are daft idiots," she says, as if explaining to a child. "You are both blind to each other and can't see because of the walls you've built. You both have hidden feelings you refuse to talk about with anyone, especially each other, and you're both miserable--"

Arthur interrupts, "I am not miserable."

"Me neither," Merlin chimes in.

"You could both be happier," Gwen says.

"And so would the rest of us if we don't have to deal with," Morgana waves her hand a round, "your pining."

Merlin protests, "There is no pining!"

"None whatsoever," Arthur agrees heartily.

Morgana rolls her eyes. "Yes, there is, and you need to grow up and get over it. And you've both proven the only way of doing this -- albeit, temporarily -- is with liquid courage. We," she says, nodding her head towards Gwen, "think you both need to be on the same page at the same time, so that you can see each other, return to the land of sobriety and be happy. It's a brilliant plan and if you two would just do as you're told, it will work."

Arthur says flatly, "You're ridiculous."

Merlin sighs. He doesn't know if Arthur gets this grand scheme of the girls -- or, rather, gets what they think it is. He's not entirely sure he believes it; getting drunk with Arthur on the booze that seems to completely strip them both of their inhibitions regarding each other isn't going to help them move forward with anything, not if Arthur only wants Merlin for a quick shag.

Merlin shakes his head. "I don't think it's right. Getting us -- shots to get us to -- why would you even think this is a good thing? Plus," he adds firmly, determined, "it's not going to work."

"I'll do it," Arthur says.

Merlin looks at him, surprised. "What?"

Arthur looks at him challengingly. "You don't seem to think it'll do anything so let's just drink up with my sister for her birthday, why don't we?"

"Fine," Merlin spats at him. "Brilliant plan."

Gwen bites her lip. "I almost feel like there should be rules."

"For drinking?" Arthur asks, astonished.

"Like, no more drinking, after this," she says. Shrugging, she adds, "So you're both still yourselves. And you'll remember. Because you both tend to get carried away at times and forget everything the next day."

"Oh, good point, my love," Morgana says, beaming at Gwen. "How about two rounds of each shot, then they have to promise no more alcohol until -- well, until they work it out."

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he is getting a headache from negotiating a possible bout of liquid courage. Merlin can't blame him because, for all the skirting around the issue at hand, it is probably one of the most ridiculous conversations he's ever been a part of.

And yet, what if ... "Deal."

Arthur glances at Merlin, eyebrows raised. "Really? You love a good night out drinking."

Merlin shrugs. He reaches past Morgana and takes two of the tequila shots, handing one to Arthur. "Well, it is Morgana's birthday and if this is what she wants."

"Fine," Arthur says, not about to back down. "Deal."

"Oh, thank goodness," Gwen says, as Morgana laughs. "You both really are thick and we've been running out of ideas."

Merlin takes a lime wedge between his free forefinger and thumb; his tongue flicks out and pressing flat against the skin between them, dragging over the area and wetting it. Arthur watches him, eying Merlin intently. Merlin turns to Gwen with a smirk and holds out his hand. "Salt me."

Gwen laughs and does, and then everyone else follows suit. When they're all ready, Morgana holds hers up and announces her cheers, "To liquid courage!"

Arthur mutters something about ridiculous but they all clink glasses, lick the salt, take the shot, and suck on their lime wedge.

Merlin shudders and nearly starts gagging. He hasn't had tequila since that ill-fated night and it really doesn't sit well. "Fuck," he breaths, face crinkling up. "That's disgusting."

Arthur slams his glass to the bar top. "Not bad," he says happily.

"You're a wanker," Merlin mutters.

"What's that? You want me to wank you? Morgana, look, your plan is working!"

Merlin can't help it, he barks out laughter. Arthur is smiling at him, amused. "You two are idiots," Morgana says, but hands them their other shot. It's the tumbler of Red Bull with a shot of jager, and Merlin has always had trouble drinking those kinds of drinks, barely avoiding spilling them all over himself. But, after another clink of glasses, he shoots it back with no problem at all. Arthur grimaces, but just a little, probably feeling much the same Merlin does about tequila.

"One more round of each!" Morgana calls out to the bartender.

"Oh, god," Gwen moans, hopping up into the chair next to Morgana. "Why am I doing this?"

"Because it's Morgana's birthday," Arthur and Merlin answer in unison. Gwen laughs, though she leans her elbow on the bar and she props her head up on her hand. Morgana pats her knee lovingly.

"You're a dear for doing this," Morgana says. She eyes up Arthur and Merlin. "And how are you doing?"

"Great," Arthur answers.

"Never better," Merlin says. Though, he starts to feel the shots mingling with the wine and cocktail he had earlier. The top of his legs are becoming tingly and he spreads his stance a little to keep from swaying. He can feel it moving through his body, from the pit of his stomach and rolling out in warm waves.

They all do their second round of shots, and as Arthur slams the tumbler back on the bar, he looks at Merlin. "So, Merlin," he says seriously. "I think this is where we're supposed to declare our love for each other."

Merlin nods. "Yes, I do think so."

"Right." Arthur suddenly beams a smile and hooks his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm going to get back to my mates now. "

Merlin smiles back. "Sounds great. See you later!"

"Cheers," Arthur says. He drops a quick kiss to Morgana's cheek, but then he's swaggering back through the crowd, finding the group of friends he'd left not too long before.

Merlin looks at the girls and shrugs, smiling. "Sorry, ladies, but I think you lose this game."

Neither of them look all that worried about it.

"I give it within the hour," Gwen says, leaning her head against Morgana's shoulder.

Morgana answers, "Half hour, tops."

"I'm thinking not at all," Merlin says lightly.

Morgana looks at him, eyes steely. "Then who would be the loser?" she asks, her voice a lot more serious than it had been at any other time that evening. "Certainly not us."

Merlin is taken back a bit, but before he can say anything else, Morgana's face lights up as a couple of her friends approach, saying hello to her and Gwen. Merlin steps away, letting them crowd around the girls, and he leans up against the bar.

He convinces himself the uneasy feeling in his stomach is just from taking so many shots in such a short time.

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