It’s not difficult to see that Sir Kay is drunk. The man has usually so much self control that even a little slip is too revealing of his state.
Sir Bedivere raises his gaze from the papers in front of him. Sir Kay’s hand has started drawing circles and little horses, instead of completing the lists for the winter provides.
“Don’t you think it’s time to sleep this off?” Bedivere suggests. He can feel his own neck cracking, when he stretches, and it’s way too late to stay up all night to do counts and numbers. And it appears Kay is too drunk to do so.
“Have you finished the bottle?” Bedivere continues, taking in the now empty bottle of wine in front of them. Yes, it’s actually empty.
“It was awful. King Mark has always had a terrible taste in wine,” Kay slurs, and Bedivere chuckles because the wine was not that strong and the bottle hasn’t even been completely full. Kay doesn’t hold his wine as one would expect from such a tall man.
“I actually did Arthur a favor. He hates King Mark’s gifts,” the seneschal continues. “And King Ban’s gifts. He always sends useless stuff. The Queen accidentally broke one of his vases or so she says. I am sure it wasn’t an accident.”
“Aren’t these… intimate secrets of our Queen?” Bedivere asks. He is quite amused to see that even in drunkenness Sir Kay manages to be stiff and snobbishly irritated. Personally offended by the majority of people, he would say.
“You are a good person, Bedivere. A very good talented person.”
The marshal raises his eyebrows a little surprised by the change of topic, but he graciously nods, accepting the compliment. He is years past his first meeting with Kay, and he has quite learnt not to expect from him extremely warm demonstrations of friendship.
“You are kind, Sir Kay. You are a good person too.”
“I know I am a good person. I am the best seneschal my brother could ask for,” Kay tells him, almost daring him to dissent. “Wouldn’t you say that Camelot would crumble without me?”
“Quite so. The kitchens at least.”
“And then no one would eat!” Kay continues, triumphant. “No food for anyone. No one. No marvels at Pentecost. Yes, I like you. You are a very good person.”
Bedivere laughs. He is surprised but quite amused by how the situation turned, and he is beginning to understand that Sir Kay’s usual aversion to wine could be more about his drunkenly extremely talkative state than a simple distaste.
Surely, asking some harmless questions would be a simple human weakness from his part.
“What do you think about Sir Lancelot?”
“Pompous cheating French.”
Nothing new then. “What about Gawain?”
“Loud. But acceptable.”
“A witch with lovely hair.”
“It’s not fun,” Kay insists. “Her hair is very beautiful. I like its color.”
“I think it’s the same color of my hair,” Bedivere lets him notice, still smiling.
“I like your hair too. It looks soft.”
“Do you like something else?” And Bedivere may say that he probably meant in the general sense but he can admit only to himself that he may have wanted to hear more about the same line of thoughts.
Kay’s eyes turn on him, and he cocks his head. “Your shoulders. They are very large.”
Bedivere shrugs, he doesn’t know how to answer. He can feel a light blush spreading around his ear and he feels seventeen and ridiculous again.
“I like your eyes, they are dark and warm.” Kay’s hand raises to touch Bedivere’s brow, fingers tracing it, moving to his nose. He touches his beard. “I like your lips-”
Before Bedivere knows, he is being kissed, the feel of Kay’s lips on his own is new, their kisses still only a few. This thing between them is fragile and beautiful, born a couple of weeks ago. His hands burn, the desire to be able to touch Kay’s neck, to feel his shoulders- he stands, taking a step back.
Kay stumbles a little, startled. “Where are you going?” He asks, frowning, trying to take Bedivere's hand and kiss it.
“To sleep,” Bedivere quickly answers. “I think we both need to sleep."
"Yes, I agree. Together.”
“No,” Bedivere hastily answers, alarmed by the yes in his mind. “You go ahead. To your chambers,” he takes Kay’s arm and Kay lets him raise him, docile, “I’ll finish up here. You will be glad tomorrow to not have any work to finish.”
“I am not glad now,” Sir Kay lets him now, but Bedivere doesn’t listen to him and pushes him a little out of door.