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There was a nearly-empty squirrel bowl sitting on the edge of Arthur's window (outside; it was too cold to leave it open), there were a few pieces of furniture ajar (... the punch was evil, or Merlin's magic was at the worst of times, Arthur hadn't decided) and Arthur's mind was, for the moment, blessedly void of any further thoughts about Morgana's... you know.
Romantic life.
(After he'd fallen out of that tree while trying to get a look at her in the bath at age 14, he'd pretty much decided that her breasts were weapons of great destruction which would lead to the deaths of men yet, and-- okay, seriously, not thinking about it)
Instead, he was draped haphazardly across his bed with a wizard's hands pressed into his armpits, and snoring. Still.
[[ for the boy, details NFB, woo, although feel free to report Merlin was in the room. ETA: aaaand NWS ]]
Romantic life.
(After he'd fallen out of that tree while trying to get a look at her in the bath at age 14, he'd pretty much decided that her breasts were weapons of great destruction which would lead to the deaths of men yet, and-- okay, seriously, not thinking about it)
Instead, he was draped haphazardly across his bed with a wizard's hands pressed into his armpits, and snoring. Still.
[[ for the boy, details NFB, woo, although feel free to report Merlin was in the room. ETA: aaaand NWS ]]
