Merlin coughed, trying to hack out the taste of half-digested alcohol, whimpering simply because he hated to be sick; he'd rather be in discomfort all day and wait for it to subside than throw up and feel okay in a few hours.
It hurt to see, actually physically see, and he somehow managed to hear Zach through the thumping pain in his head. To say he let Zach get him up on to the bed was giving him a bit too much credit as he wouldn't really have been able to stop the older kid had he wanted to, had his brains not felt like they were trying to leak out of him.
He sat, or rather, slumped in the heap that he'd folded himself into, semi upright against the head of the bed he was in, reaching and obediently drinking the potion Zach gave to him because he was pretty sure he wouldn't be being molested in this condition, and if it was poisoned he welcomed it.
Not poison.
He kind of wished it had been though as the ache in his head settled to a manageable throb and his stomach, oh, his stomach turned from tempest to quite fjord. It would have been too easy to turn round and go back to sleep apart from the fact that the place now stank of sick and he was desperately trying not to remember why he had come to Zach's place - first things first though, he pulled his wand from somewhere and scourgified the floor. "Sorry." he said, which was a pretty good first word he felt.