Hangover Remedy by Ali-chan
Title: Hangover Remedy
Author: Alichan (ad_exia)
Rating: R (I was going to make it NC17, but I don't have time. D:)
Summary: I blame it all on Gaius. I seem to do that a lot. XD Merlin and Lancelot trust him way too much.
Spoilers: For the episode with Lancelot in it (I think it was five? :D;). Author's note under the cut just in case~
A/N: This takes place just after the scene where Merlin and Lancelot come out of Merlin's room in the morning. I know in the actual episode Lancelot gets taken away in short order for lying about his identity, but just go with me here and pretend that doesn't happen.
Hangover Remedy
What should have happened was that Merlin would offer his bed, because Lancelot was a guest; Lancelot, being a newly-appointed knight and gallant to the core, would have insisted that Merlin keep his bed. The argument might very well have gone on ‘till sunrise. But they were both exhausted and more than a little drunk, wobbling their way through the physician’s workroom well after Gaius had left the festivities and gone to bed. Merlin nearly knocked over the sole candle the old man had left alight on the workbench, and both had barely stifled giggles as they stumbled up the steps and into Merlin’s tiny room.
This was when the aforementioned argument should have taken place; but seeing as neither an could see straight, let alone think straight, they both toppled unceremoniously onto Merlin’s threadbare mattress and were asleep mere seconds later.
It was a wonder they’d both managed to fit on Merlin’s bed in the first place.
They were awakened by the early morning sunlight on their faces and the sounds of life in Camelot going about its usual business outside of Merlin’s window. The two of them blinked sleepily, realized the position in which they were sleeping - rather entwined in a mess of limbs and clothing - and sprang apart, groaning as their legs caught at the ankle and they tumbled to the floor, heads and backsides aching.
There were a few moments of awkward straightening of clothes and hair, and then their eyes met and both of them laughed - suddenly it was as though the awkwardness had gone from the room, and they were both just good friends who’d had a bit too much to drink last night. They grasped hands in a manly gesture of friendship, and Merlin pulled open the door so they could make their way down the steps and into Gaius’ workroom.
“Two yards of ale - two miles, is more like it,” Lancelot groaned as he navigated the steps carefully. Falling flat on his face the first day of his knighthood would be most unbecoming.
Merlin was laughing as he followed him when they both looked up and saw Gaius standing across the room, two earthenware cups in his hands. “Good morning, gentlemen,” the physician said. He held up the cups. “Don’t look at it, don’t smell it, just down it in one.”
Merlin and Lancelot exchanged a glance; but Gaius had never before led him astray, and so Merlin reached for one of the proffered vessels. Lancelot followed suit, and both of them simply drained the contents - foul would be an understatement, Merlin thought a moment later - and gasped for air after.
Gaius was watching them with that particular raised-eyebrow look only he could pull off. “Better?” he asked, not waiting for a reply before he said, “Good. Can’t have you nodding off first day on the job, Lancelot.”
Merlin looked to his friend and grinned. “That’s Sir Lancelot, if you don’t mind,” he said, and their laughter rang through the air. His head did feel a bit better - lighter, less achy, though there was something new...
Merlin watched Lancelot’s face as he laughed - the way his eyes scrunched up just a little, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, all accentuated by his deep, smooth laughter. He really was quite handsome in the morning light - a little like Arthur, but altogether different in many ways. Whereas Arthur had a shined and polished quality to his beauty, Lancelot had a rugged and wild air about him, woven through with the warm chocolate smoothness of his gallantry.
Merlin realized he was staring and looked away, his laughter trailing off into uncertainty. What had that been about? Why was he thinking about things like that, especially about Lancelot? He glanced nervously at Gaius to see if he had noticed, and realized with dismay that the physician was watching him almost carefully, his expression measured and calculating. He looked like he was watching a potion boil or a wound slowly heal. Merlin didn’t like the way that attention was pinned on him now.
He cleared his throat nervously. “So, Sir Lancelot,” he said, as smoothly as he could, “shall I show you to the armory?”
He cast his gaze up at the other man and saw that Lancelot was watching him with a peculiar light in his dark eyes; something hot and sharp flashed behind his gaze, and Merlin found his stomach tight with heat all of a sudden. Perhaps he should just beg off his offer and take a trip to the water pump...
“Yes,” Lancelot said slowly, and Merlin watched Gaius’ gaze swivel over to the young knight. “That would be... wonderful.”
Well, there was nothing for it now. Merlin almost reached over and took Lancelot’s hand; he caught himself in time, turning it into a gentle tug on the other’s sleeve before he hurried out of the workroom, away from Gaius and his suspicious, scientific gaze. The room had begun to feel stifling, anyway - the corridor wasn’t much better, but at least there was a breeze against Merlin’s cheeks if he hurried just enough. Lancelot’s long strides kept him right beside Merlin; he could feel the other’s heat radiating like a beacon.
They didn’t actually make it to the armory. One moment they were walking down the stone-line corridor, staring straight ahead but walking so close that their elbows just barely brushed each time they took a step, cloth-covered skin passing within less than an inch of the other. And then the next, Lancelot had taken Merlin by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall as they turned the corner, conveniently finding an alcove which had previously only housed a brazier, but which now also contained two fervently-kissing young men.
Merlin could feel the temperature difference across his body like it was a solid thing - the cold of the stone seeping through the clothes at his back, the heat of Lancelot’s chest burning through his shirt to set his own on fire. His hands had somehow of their own volition found themselves buried in Lancelot’s tunic at his hips, fingertips searching for the small of his back through the cloth.
Lancelot’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once - in Merlin’s hair, stroking down his face, sliding down his sides to cup his behind. Merlin, without much rational thought left in his head, pressed closer, gasping a little as the knight’s mouth slid away from his own and down his neck; he nudged Merlin’s neckerchief aside with his nose and latched onto the newly-revealed skin, sucking a red mark that made Merlin squirm.
He didn’t stop to think about why he - or Lancelot - was doing this. Suddenly it seemed the most natural thing in the world, the heat and the touches and the sparks between them. Lancelot bit down and Merlin loosed another gasp, his eyes opening wide and he saw gold tingeing his vision, hurried to put that particular heat away, desperately trying to contain that which wanted to be freed at the hands of the young, dark-haired knight. Magic was not something that belonged here - only Lancelot, Merlin thought, pulling him closer.
Lancelot had begun to lap at Merlin’s skin as though it were ambrosia upon which he could feast, and Merlin’s knees were beginning to go weak as he slid his arms up to hook around the other’s neck, threading barely-shaking fingers through his hair. He knew he had duties to perform - duties the crown prince expected of him - and he even knew he had a duty to Gwen, to keep up their little game of flirt-and-look-away, which he knew he enjoyed as much as she did. He liked her. But just now, just this morning, just this instant, he liked Lancelot more than anything in the world, and it seemed the object of his desire had no qualms about returning that feeling, times ten.
As if the accentuate that point, the knight’s fingers began to slip upwards just a little, until they found the hem of Merlin’s breeches and began to wriggle inside. Merlin, in turn, wriggled in Lancelot’s grasp, his breath coming out in short huffs and puffs as all of the heat in his body began to flow downward to one central point...
“We can’t... not here,” Merlin gasped out, fingers curling into the skin at the back of Lancelot’s neck. He very much wanted to, right here, but he knew that at this hour of the morning the corridor would be seeing considerable traffic very shortly. In that same vein the armory, although close, was also out of the question. Not to mention that would likely be uncomfortable.
Lancelot seemed to pick up on Merlin’s thoughts as though they were his own. “Mm,” he murmured, pulling away with obvious regret; Merlin too regretted the sudden loss of heat, but when he looked up into Lancelot’s dark eyes, he saw that it was still there, smoldering just behind his gaze. “What do you suggest?” the young knight asked, his voice hoarse and husky and hot all at once.
“Back to my room?” Merlin ground out, feeling foolish but it was the best place he could think of on short notice. It was the first place he could think of with a door that no one would easily walk in on - at least, he hoped not.
Lancelot nodded, and together they loped back down the hall, retracting their steps from mere minutes ago. Lancelot threw open the door to Gaius’ workroom - the physician looked up with alarm until he realized it was only them, and the confusion achieved dominance over worry on his face.
“I - I forgot something! Might take a while to find!” Merlin said quickly before Gaius could form a question, aware that his voice sounded strained and most likely suspicious but completely unable to care as he and Lancelot veritably flew through the room and up the steps into Merlin’s small alcove, closing the door behind them. There was no lock on it; they’d just have to trust to Gaius’ discretion. Merlin hoped he’d have some, this morning.
Together they tumbled for the second time onto Merlin’s tiny bed, the clothing that they had just pulled so frantically on half an hour ago now being pulled just as frantically off. There was rolling and squirming and some nearly falling-off the bed, but in the end they managed to land with Merlin pinned beneath Lancelot, bare skin to bare skin, the heat between them feeling like it was enough to rival the sun’s.
Merlin knew what he wanted - felt the slightest twinge of embarrassment about asking for it before it was shoved to the side in the wake of the tide pulling him in, toward Lancelot, and reached over to take one of the knight’s broad hands and guide it downwards.
“I’ve never done this before,” Merlin admitted, feeling his cheeks turn hot as he watched Lancelot’s face, carefully.
The knight’s face grew chagrined; “Neither have I,” he replied, sliding the hand in Merlin’s grip down his stomach, over his hip and down, lower, to Merlin’s arse. “But I think together we can figure it out?”
Merlin gasped and arched as one finger prodded him, gently, and reached up to pull Lancelot down, closer. “Yes,” he breathed, “let’s.”
*
Beyond Merlin’s door, Gaius continued to sit at his workbench, unable to filter out the sounds emanating from his apprentice-of-sorts’ tiny room. With a sigh and wry smile, he went back to the scroll he was currently perusing, pausing to dip the point of a quill in a dish of ink and write, in neat, scientific letters, “Recipe appears to be fast-acting. Ensure suitable lodging is available before consuming,” in the margin beside the ingredients list. He would have to call for another servant to see to Arthur’s morning needs and explain that Merlin and Lancelot had fallen inexplicably (and contagiously) ill; the prince was rather the jealous type, after all.
Author: Alichan (ad_exia)
Rating: R (I was going to make it NC17, but I don't have time. D:)
Summary: I blame it all on Gaius. I seem to do that a lot. XD Merlin and Lancelot trust him way too much.
Spoilers: For the episode with Lancelot in it (I think it was five? :D;). Author's note under the cut just in case~
A/N: This takes place just after the scene where Merlin and Lancelot come out of Merlin's room in the morning. I know in the actual episode Lancelot gets taken away in short order for lying about his identity, but just go with me here and pretend that doesn't happen.
Hangover Remedy
What should have happened was that Merlin would offer his bed, because Lancelot was a guest; Lancelot, being a newly-appointed knight and gallant to the core, would have insisted that Merlin keep his bed. The argument might very well have gone on ‘till sunrise. But they were both exhausted and more than a little drunk, wobbling their way through the physician’s workroom well after Gaius had left the festivities and gone to bed. Merlin nearly knocked over the sole candle the old man had left alight on the workbench, and both had barely stifled giggles as they stumbled up the steps and into Merlin’s tiny room.
This was when the aforementioned argument should have taken place; but seeing as neither an could see straight, let alone think straight, they both toppled unceremoniously onto Merlin’s threadbare mattress and were asleep mere seconds later.
It was a wonder they’d both managed to fit on Merlin’s bed in the first place.
They were awakened by the early morning sunlight on their faces and the sounds of life in Camelot going about its usual business outside of Merlin’s window. The two of them blinked sleepily, realized the position in which they were sleeping - rather entwined in a mess of limbs and clothing - and sprang apart, groaning as their legs caught at the ankle and they tumbled to the floor, heads and backsides aching.
There were a few moments of awkward straightening of clothes and hair, and then their eyes met and both of them laughed - suddenly it was as though the awkwardness had gone from the room, and they were both just good friends who’d had a bit too much to drink last night. They grasped hands in a manly gesture of friendship, and Merlin pulled open the door so they could make their way down the steps and into Gaius’ workroom.
“Two yards of ale - two miles, is more like it,” Lancelot groaned as he navigated the steps carefully. Falling flat on his face the first day of his knighthood would be most unbecoming.
Merlin was laughing as he followed him when they both looked up and saw Gaius standing across the room, two earthenware cups in his hands. “Good morning, gentlemen,” the physician said. He held up the cups. “Don’t look at it, don’t smell it, just down it in one.”
Merlin and Lancelot exchanged a glance; but Gaius had never before led him astray, and so Merlin reached for one of the proffered vessels. Lancelot followed suit, and both of them simply drained the contents - foul would be an understatement, Merlin thought a moment later - and gasped for air after.
Gaius was watching them with that particular raised-eyebrow look only he could pull off. “Better?” he asked, not waiting for a reply before he said, “Good. Can’t have you nodding off first day on the job, Lancelot.”
Merlin looked to his friend and grinned. “That’s Sir Lancelot, if you don’t mind,” he said, and their laughter rang through the air. His head did feel a bit better - lighter, less achy, though there was something new...
Merlin watched Lancelot’s face as he laughed - the way his eyes scrunched up just a little, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, all accentuated by his deep, smooth laughter. He really was quite handsome in the morning light - a little like Arthur, but altogether different in many ways. Whereas Arthur had a shined and polished quality to his beauty, Lancelot had a rugged and wild air about him, woven through with the warm chocolate smoothness of his gallantry.
Merlin realized he was staring and looked away, his laughter trailing off into uncertainty. What had that been about? Why was he thinking about things like that, especially about Lancelot? He glanced nervously at Gaius to see if he had noticed, and realized with dismay that the physician was watching him almost carefully, his expression measured and calculating. He looked like he was watching a potion boil or a wound slowly heal. Merlin didn’t like the way that attention was pinned on him now.
He cleared his throat nervously. “So, Sir Lancelot,” he said, as smoothly as he could, “shall I show you to the armory?”
He cast his gaze up at the other man and saw that Lancelot was watching him with a peculiar light in his dark eyes; something hot and sharp flashed behind his gaze, and Merlin found his stomach tight with heat all of a sudden. Perhaps he should just beg off his offer and take a trip to the water pump...
“Yes,” Lancelot said slowly, and Merlin watched Gaius’ gaze swivel over to the young knight. “That would be... wonderful.”
Well, there was nothing for it now. Merlin almost reached over and took Lancelot’s hand; he caught himself in time, turning it into a gentle tug on the other’s sleeve before he hurried out of the workroom, away from Gaius and his suspicious, scientific gaze. The room had begun to feel stifling, anyway - the corridor wasn’t much better, but at least there was a breeze against Merlin’s cheeks if he hurried just enough. Lancelot’s long strides kept him right beside Merlin; he could feel the other’s heat radiating like a beacon.
They didn’t actually make it to the armory. One moment they were walking down the stone-line corridor, staring straight ahead but walking so close that their elbows just barely brushed each time they took a step, cloth-covered skin passing within less than an inch of the other. And then the next, Lancelot had taken Merlin by the shoulders and slammed him into the wall as they turned the corner, conveniently finding an alcove which had previously only housed a brazier, but which now also contained two fervently-kissing young men.
Merlin could feel the temperature difference across his body like it was a solid thing - the cold of the stone seeping through the clothes at his back, the heat of Lancelot’s chest burning through his shirt to set his own on fire. His hands had somehow of their own volition found themselves buried in Lancelot’s tunic at his hips, fingertips searching for the small of his back through the cloth.
Lancelot’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once - in Merlin’s hair, stroking down his face, sliding down his sides to cup his behind. Merlin, without much rational thought left in his head, pressed closer, gasping a little as the knight’s mouth slid away from his own and down his neck; he nudged Merlin’s neckerchief aside with his nose and latched onto the newly-revealed skin, sucking a red mark that made Merlin squirm.
He didn’t stop to think about why he - or Lancelot - was doing this. Suddenly it seemed the most natural thing in the world, the heat and the touches and the sparks between them. Lancelot bit down and Merlin loosed another gasp, his eyes opening wide and he saw gold tingeing his vision, hurried to put that particular heat away, desperately trying to contain that which wanted to be freed at the hands of the young, dark-haired knight. Magic was not something that belonged here - only Lancelot, Merlin thought, pulling him closer.
Lancelot had begun to lap at Merlin’s skin as though it were ambrosia upon which he could feast, and Merlin’s knees were beginning to go weak as he slid his arms up to hook around the other’s neck, threading barely-shaking fingers through his hair. He knew he had duties to perform - duties the crown prince expected of him - and he even knew he had a duty to Gwen, to keep up their little game of flirt-and-look-away, which he knew he enjoyed as much as she did. He liked her. But just now, just this morning, just this instant, he liked Lancelot more than anything in the world, and it seemed the object of his desire had no qualms about returning that feeling, times ten.
As if the accentuate that point, the knight’s fingers began to slip upwards just a little, until they found the hem of Merlin’s breeches and began to wriggle inside. Merlin, in turn, wriggled in Lancelot’s grasp, his breath coming out in short huffs and puffs as all of the heat in his body began to flow downward to one central point...
“We can’t... not here,” Merlin gasped out, fingers curling into the skin at the back of Lancelot’s neck. He very much wanted to, right here, but he knew that at this hour of the morning the corridor would be seeing considerable traffic very shortly. In that same vein the armory, although close, was also out of the question. Not to mention that would likely be uncomfortable.
Lancelot seemed to pick up on Merlin’s thoughts as though they were his own. “Mm,” he murmured, pulling away with obvious regret; Merlin too regretted the sudden loss of heat, but when he looked up into Lancelot’s dark eyes, he saw that it was still there, smoldering just behind his gaze. “What do you suggest?” the young knight asked, his voice hoarse and husky and hot all at once.
“Back to my room?” Merlin ground out, feeling foolish but it was the best place he could think of on short notice. It was the first place he could think of with a door that no one would easily walk in on - at least, he hoped not.
Lancelot nodded, and together they loped back down the hall, retracting their steps from mere minutes ago. Lancelot threw open the door to Gaius’ workroom - the physician looked up with alarm until he realized it was only them, and the confusion achieved dominance over worry on his face.
“I - I forgot something! Might take a while to find!” Merlin said quickly before Gaius could form a question, aware that his voice sounded strained and most likely suspicious but completely unable to care as he and Lancelot veritably flew through the room and up the steps into Merlin’s small alcove, closing the door behind them. There was no lock on it; they’d just have to trust to Gaius’ discretion. Merlin hoped he’d have some, this morning.
Together they tumbled for the second time onto Merlin’s tiny bed, the clothing that they had just pulled so frantically on half an hour ago now being pulled just as frantically off. There was rolling and squirming and some nearly falling-off the bed, but in the end they managed to land with Merlin pinned beneath Lancelot, bare skin to bare skin, the heat between them feeling like it was enough to rival the sun’s.
Merlin knew what he wanted - felt the slightest twinge of embarrassment about asking for it before it was shoved to the side in the wake of the tide pulling him in, toward Lancelot, and reached over to take one of the knight’s broad hands and guide it downwards.
“I’ve never done this before,” Merlin admitted, feeling his cheeks turn hot as he watched Lancelot’s face, carefully.
The knight’s face grew chagrined; “Neither have I,” he replied, sliding the hand in Merlin’s grip down his stomach, over his hip and down, lower, to Merlin’s arse. “But I think together we can figure it out?”
Merlin gasped and arched as one finger prodded him, gently, and reached up to pull Lancelot down, closer. “Yes,” he breathed, “let’s.”
*
Beyond Merlin’s door, Gaius continued to sit at his workbench, unable to filter out the sounds emanating from his apprentice-of-sorts’ tiny room. With a sigh and wry smile, he went back to the scroll he was currently perusing, pausing to dip the point of a quill in a dish of ink and write, in neat, scientific letters, “Recipe appears to be fast-acting. Ensure suitable lodging is available before consuming,” in the margin beside the ingredients list. He would have to call for another servant to see to Arthur’s morning needs and explain that Merlin and Lancelot had fallen inexplicably (and contagiously) ill; the prince was rather the jealous type, after all.