Merlin One-shots

One more can't hurt

Word count - 3,487

Merlin

The evening wasn't exactly supposed to go like this.

Arthur, being the incredibly selfless and caring master that he was, sarcasm implied, decided it was a great idea to take Merlin with him to the tavern with the knights for a night out.

Of course, Merlin wasn't there to drink. He was there to make sure the knights' tankards didn't run dry.

This didn't bother Merlin. He didn't drink.

So that's why he was confused at that familiar twisted gut feeling of danger as he stepped through the door at Arthur's side.

"Calm down, dollop head." Arthur muttered. "You look like a skittish deer."

Not really paying much attention to what he said, Merlin replied with a short "That's my word." and walked to the bar the get the knights their first round.

Walking up to the bar tender, he ordered the seven tankards of mead and glanced back to where the knights had taken the centre table.

Scanning each laughing face, his critical gaze fell on one in particular, and his danger radar went nuts.

Mordred.

Merlin shook his head, turning back to pick up the tray of drinks. Mordred was a friend of Camelot, as proven many times. Arthur was right; he was being paranoid.

Placing the drinks on the table, Merlin stood back as the knights cheered and grabbed a tankard each, smashing them together in a rowdy toast and taking a large swig, slamming them back down on the table one after the other.

Animals. Merlin rolled his eyes and went to stand at Arthurs side.

"Anything else, Sire?" He said, hands folded respectfully behind his back. He knew better than to disrespect his king while there was alcohol around. One swig was almost always enough to get him tipsy; contrary to popular belief, Arthur was quite the lightweight.

Arthur shook his head and looked up at Merlin. Then, much to Merlin's surprise, Arthur grabbed an empty seat from a neighbouring table and dragged it up next to him, patting the seat.

Merlin was confused. "...Expecting anyone else, Sire?" He asked, fidgeting with his fingers from behind his back.

Another head shake, another seat pat.

Still oblivious to the gestures, Merlin simply looked at Arthur, confusion splattered on his young face.

Arthur rolled his eyes and grabbed Merlin's arm. "Sit."

Silence. "...Are you certain, Sire? I don't think it's appropriate-"

"Sit." Came the stern reply as Arthur resulted to dragging Merlin into the seat himself before returning to listening to Gwaine's incredible and definitely made-up story of how he killed three wild boars with nothing but a scrap of wood.

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"...and then I was like RARRR and he was like AHHH!" Gwaine finished another fascinatingly fake story, all the knights laughing. 

"Another round!" Leon shouted, shoving his empty tankard in Merlin's direction, the rest following suit. Merlin simply rolled his eyes and gathered the tankards on the tray, standing to go get their fifth round of the night as the bell struck eleven at night.

Arthur grabbed Merlin's arm, already pretty drunk. "Remember to grab yourself one too, Merlin." He slurred.

Merlin hesitated. "I don't think that's necessary sire, I don't really...drink." he laughed nervously as Arthur's drunken gaze switched to a glare.