Rating: T (for drunkenness)
Spoilers: All of Season 1 vaguely.
Summary: Arthur finds Gwen in ann uncharateristic state... mild Arthur/Gwen
A/N: For fictionisfab, prompt “Arthur deals with a drunk Gwen”. Thanks to fififolle for betareading.
As he stalks the corridor he hears giggling, the sound louder as he approaches the end of the East wing, near the central staircase of the castle. He hardly expects the source to be Gwen, maid to Morgana, sprawled in a niche. He peers down at her, trying to appear completely unamused, yet he has to stifle a snort as she fumbles at the stone in an attempt to get up only to stumble backwards into pretty much the same position as before.
“Are you drunk?” he asks as he holds out his hand for her to take.
Gwen looks at it, surprised very briefly, and perhaps against her usual judgement she takes it, letting him hoist her up, stumbling once more, falling practically into his arms as he attempts to balance her.
“Morgana insisted I join in the festivities,” Gwen says, in a low conspiratorial whisper, leaning in towards his ear as she speaks.
It occurs to him that he's never been quite this close to the girl before.
“Did she really?”
Polite conversation as it is, he does hope to uncover just why she's drunk and alone.
“Would I lie?” she all but teases.
“I suppose not.” And he does believe it, though he's still insanely curious.
“Pray tell then, fair Gwen, why are you here, inebriated?”
“Morgana fell asleep -”
“She actually fell asleep at this hour? I thought she tried her best to avoid sleep these days.”
“Fine, she passed out. She had more than me you know, and I put her to bed, did my duty and more, because she didn't want to drink alone. And that's where I'm going myself - bed.”
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she demands, a flush developing in her cheeks.
“Your quarters are on the other side of the castle. Two floors down.”
She blinks, unphased by the comment.
“It all looks the same at the moment -”
“Fuzzy and spinning by any chance?”
She ignores the jibe, wrapping her arm around his, grinning and tugging on him, managing this time not to sway too much as she takes a step.
“You'll just have to escort me, like a gentleman.”
He grins back, and turns them round to the right direction. The giggling has certainly stopped, except it's not long before she starts whistling. He probably ought to thank the fact she can at least do so in tune even when drunk.
She glances across when she finishes the song, lips pursed a little before breaking out into a beautiful giddy smile at him and he can't help blushing a little, against his nature to be always confident and sure. Dear Guinevere is perhaps the most agreeable drunk he's come across in a while, not fawning over him, nor playing the damsel in distress. Really, she's more true and real to him now as they stroll down the length of this level than she has ever been to him before. He can't help returning that smile and laughing himself when she breaks into a random giggle once more.