Character/s: Merlin, Galahad(OC) with a little bit of Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot too
Summary: Galahad can't sleep
Warnings: (as per usual) Menage a quatre, people!
Word Count: 632
Author's Notes: So, after having no inspiration whatsoever for this, I've somehow ended up with three drabbles, whoops... This is number one and the first I wrote, and it's all fluffy
Galahad can’t sleep. His mind is too busy whirring with the events of the day, so he goes to look for someone to help him.
It was a day with Dad and his Uncles, because Mummy and Morgana are on holiday for the weekend. They’d taken him to the zoo and he’d loved it, running around, pretending to be the animals he saw. Uncle Gwaine had pretended to be a lion tamer and chased him around, and then he’d made Uncle Arthur give him a piggy back like the koala mummy had done for her baby. And then they’d had lunch and Daddy had held him up on his shoulders to watch the penguins being fed.
It had been brilliant, and he’d been having a dream about it, but there had been a bit of a scary part and he’d woken up. And now he wants the lights on the walls like Uncle Merlin had made to get him to sleep. So he goes to one of their bedrooms, unsure where they’ll all be.
There’s no one in this room, so he sneaks next door. And there they are, asleep on the bed together, everything but their heads and feet covered in duvet. They breathe deeply, the covers rising and falling, and Galahad stands at the foot of the bed and watches them for a while. He doesn’t want to wake them all. Just Uncle Merlin, so he can show him the pretty lights.
Galahad can see the heads at the top of the bed, can distinguish them by the hair, or by the bits of face he can see, depending on how they’re sleeping. But their legs are all tangled, and their feet don’t line up with their heads. He looks at them, head tilting slightly to the side, concentrating.
Uncle Merlin’s pale. So he tries the nearest pale foot, squeezing the big toe.
Uncle Arthur stirs, muttering something and wriggling in closer to Uncle Gwaine. That was the wrong foot, then. So Galahad tries a different looking pale foot, tickling it a little.
“Nnngh, Arthur,” Uncle Merlin complains.
“Uncle Merlin?” Galahad whispers, and Merlin sits upright.
“Galahad? Are you alright?”
“Can’t sleep,” he says in a small voice, pouting a little. His hair’s getting too long, and it’s sleep-tousled. He’s four now, and just about the cutest thing Merlin’s ever seen. Even though at the outset he didn’t like children. But this is different, this is Lance’s child. And as such he’s beloved.
“Alright. Do you want a drink?” he asks, swinging his legs off the bed.
“Can I see the lights, Uncle Merlin?” He’s a little tentative as he asks, coming slowly forwards to him and tugging at Merlin’s pyjama trousers.
“Of course you can, Galahad.” Merlin picks him up and carries him through to his room, setting him into his bed and sitting on the edge. He tucks him in, gently, carefully, and smooths his hair back. Galahad just wriggles to mess it up again.
Merlin smiles, and his eyes go gold as he clasps his hands together, holding between them a light. He twists the shadows, changing the colours, until giraffes and tigers and elephants and monkeys chase each other around the room. Galahad laughs and points out different things; blue, green, yellow, until he yawns, settling down, snuggling into the duvet. Merlin carries on for a little longer, then fades the light when he’s sure Galahad’s asleep.
“Night night,” he whispers, tiptoeing out and back to the bed where they all passed out without intending to, meaning to separate out since four in a bed gets a little crowded.
Still half asleep, Lance gathers him in close.
“Where did you go?”
“Your son couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs.
Lance kisses him, softly, a little besotted.