#fic merlin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

papermachedragons · 1 year ago

Text

The people have spoken. I have been convinced (narrator: it did not take a lot of convincing) to release the "drunk" merwaine kiss. And now you will find out why i have called it "drunk" kiss. Because it is "drunk"ish. There have been some drinking, but calling it a drunk kiss would greatly exaggerate the levels of drunkenness. And I'm sorry if this is disappointing, but I can't help if my brain has made a connection between "drunk characters in a fic kissing" and "Merlin and gwaine questionably tipsy(???) kiss". The connection has been made, okay, I had no control over it and now I am doomed to think about this fic and this kiss every time I stumble upon drunk/tipsy kissing in fics and now you will, too! Hurray!

Anyway, here it is. The "drunk-but-not-really-i-just-used-that-word-because-it-gets-my-point-across-faster-than-tipsy" merwaine kiss excerpt from a 30+k fic. Fair warning, it will be out of context and so some sentences will not make sense, but just gloss over that for now and pretend it makes perfect sense. What's that? Out of context? Never heard of her. Look at all this context. Wow. Never have I seen so much in-context as I have right here, right now. I am just blown away by all of this context.

Btw the title for my wip document is Gwaine's Soliloquy. Because I'm the kind of person who listens to musicals and i like to amuse myself with my wip titles.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this 7+k excerpt.

I will not be held responsible if this excerpt ends up different in the actual fic once I finish it and post it on ao3

-----------------

The banquet hall was simple, but elegant. Rows of wide, red fabric hung from the walls with slimmer fabric of gold looped in front of them, creating graceful arches of red and gold between sections of the walls, draped from post to post. Light from nearby candles caught upon the arches making the fabric ripple softly and look more like surfaces of a body of water than fabric. Flames from torches along the walls, candles down the tables and on candelabras threw a softened, steady and warm glow all through the banquet hall. Everything was awash by golden light, even the walls might as well have been bedecked in jewellery and rhinestones, for how they glowed, as if imitating the nobles inhabiting them.

Gwaine was not entirely sure why they were having a feast, this time. It seemed they were having one every few weeks and no one ever really knew why, or maybe they did and Gwaine just decided to never listen when they mentioned the reason, simply glad he could sit down with good food, good drink and surrounded by most of his friends. It was fine, though. The reason for these things were usually a stone throw away from horse shit, so Gwaine was fine saluting his drink to the air and making up some cheer in his head, instead. It was way funnier that way and he liked to see how elaborate he could make it, before he gave himself away. A game he always introduced to Elyan and Percival once they were tipsy enough to go along with it. Leon liked to pretend he was above that kind of stuff and always shot them glares, whenever their giggles betrayed them, like he was trying to cross-bow them in the middle of Arthur's speech, but once or twice he definitely whispered his own contributions to the game into his cup, so Gwaine knew it was all a lie.

The feast itself was extravagant and delicious as usual and Gwaine enjoyed himself sampling every bit of it he could get his hands on. Including a piece or two from Elyan's plate, when he was looking the other way. That did mean he lost his newly filled drink to the other man later, though.

Across the room, out of the way and up against the wall, a table stood, presenting a smaller, less extravagant buffet of most the same foods to the servants. It was a thing Gwen had talked Arthur into doing, a way for servants to mingle and have a little taste of the festivities they worked so hard for, without having to eat it cold and congealed in the kitchens long after the feast was over and the food passed the appetising stage of their lifespan. It was not that Arthur had to be convinced by her, only that he had never thought of it before or considered feasts from a servants perspective. So now they got their own little buffet. And smaller cups for drinks on occasions such as Samhain, but only on feasts of special celebration.

Knowing there was no desserts to be found on there, no matter the occasion, Gwaine — when Merlin dropped down in the space between him and Percival to fill his drink and whisper a snarky comment in his ear — slipped him a honey cake. Delight swirled through him, as Merlin startled to a stop, looked down at his little gift, then grinned blindingly bright at him, as he stepped away and disappeared once more.

This feast there were no drinks to be had for the servants. But halfway through the feasts, Gwaine did see Gwen take a hold of her goblet, half-full with raspberry cordial, bring it down and under the table, where she slipped it backwards, hiding it in the shadow of the table and the volume of her skirt — all the while she never once looked away from the two lords she held conversation with, her gaze steady and her smile amiable. Grinning from the shadows behind the two monarchs, Merlin stepped forward, slipped it from her fingers and retreated to the shadows behind the two chairs to drink the offering. Once done, he slipped it back into Gwen's hand, unseen and unnoticed, as he filled up Arthur's goblet. By the table perpendicular to theirs, Gwaine caught Merlin eye, grinned and lifted his own drink, tipping a small salute towards him. Merlin rolled his eyes, but stepped back into the shadows with a small grin.

Later, Gwaine saw him nick a sweetmeat from Arthur's plate — despite the sweetmeats at the servants table — and a small handful of raspberries , this one from the servants table, though.

Perhaps it was a little obvious that the one thing Gwaine noticed the most at these feasts was Merlin. Unsurprising, really, but what could he do? Gwaine was but a simple man. A great knight — if he may say so himself — but a simple man, still. And with generous amounts of alcohol at his disposal, he will not be held responsible for where his eyes drifts at feasts. Not even by himself.

Time passed and eventually they drifted from their seats and spread out all across the floor. Drinks and small platters of deserts in hand. Voices filled the great hall in loud, boisterous conversation and laughter. Minstrels on a raised gallery played music and sang, their songs flitting between every conversation with the graceful sweep of birds in flight. Gwaine found himself stood off-centre, leant up against a pillar. A goblet in one hand with Elyan and Kay beside him, their voices flowing in easy conversation all around him. In the middle of one of Kay's repetitive jokes about the knight and the barmaid, Gwaine caught Elyan's gaze and had to restrain a laugh, as the two shared a look, because Kay told the very same joke every time he had more than three cups of mead in him and he was the only one who still found the joke funny.

Lifting his cup, Gwaine hid his grin in his own drink, and cast his eyes about the great hall. Well, he intended to cast his eyes about the room, but predictably, his gaze immediately caught on a figure clad in brown, red and blue at the other end of the hall, hovering against a wall, near Arthur and Gwen, cast in brilliant light from both candle light and torches and for a moment, Gwaine's throat tightened. Eyes wide on the man who seemed swathed in light, as if it might as well have come from the sun itself, embracing him in its grasp; almost caressed by it, as if, even when he was meant to seek the shadows, the light instead searched for him, eager to wash his skin in its touch, making him glow from its presence alone. Then Kay smacked a hand on his shoulder and laughed loud and boisterous, deafening any within five metres reach and Gwaine shook himself out of those thoughts, though he did keep his eyes on Merlin, even as he patted Kay on the shoulder, when he started coughing on his own laughter.

As Elyan said something to him about getting Kay some water, taking the knight by the elbow and leading him to a chair, Gwaine waved the two off distractedly, now caught on the shadows that clung to Merlin like a second skin, despite the light all around him. Tension hung by his eyes in tight lines, and his mouth had lost the smile usually curling it upwards, and instead drooped downwards. Even from a distance, his shoulders looked heavy and caved in, as if weighted down and hunched by an invisible weight, or as if the jug in his hands had gained an impossible weight in the time since the feast began.

Taking a sip of his drink, Gwaine let his gaze wander through the chamber. The Great Hall was less crowded. A few courtiers and knights who had been there earlier were no longer present, thinning out the crowd. Outside the windows the night was dark and entirely black in the glass glinting and gleaming from the candle light. Reflecting pinpricks of shifting sparks of flame back at the courtiers that danced and twirled past them in merriment or walked to and from conversations across the hall.

Decided, Gwaine pushed off his support pillar, slipped his drink onto the tray of a nearby passing servant and made his way across the room with a dopey grin on his face and a wide, sweeping, gesturing wave, as if he had spotted someone at the other end of his gaze, when in reality, his eyes were focused on the flickering flames of a torch on the wall. As he crossed the floor, he made sure to waltz with exaggerated wobbling and stumbling, as if he was a single drop away from drowning in intoxication. One truly hilariously flailing step and Gwaine accidentally fell into one of the other knights. A platter of desserts spilled between them with a loud clatter and a curse. Flailing, Gwaine tucked one foot beneath the other, stumbled and fell, crashing to the ground with a large "Oomph" and the sound of tittering annoyance and laughter breaking out throughout the hall.

Blinking stupidly, as if dazed or dizzy, Gwaine looked up at the ceiling and waited. It took no longer than a single breath.

A warm hand touched his forehead. Skin smooth against Gwaine's, but with calluses and cracked patches of skin scattered all across his palm and fingers, grazing against his skin in a mismatched pinprick that should not have felt the way it did, but it felt so perfectly aligned, Gwaine sighed, even as he laid there, uncomfortable on the floor in his armour. Finally, Gwaine's eyes followed the arm to Merlin's face.

A small frown crinkled his brows, yet laughter bubbled inside his eyes, twinkling down at him. And Gwaine nearly grinned just as dopey up at him, but he made sure to blink owlishly at the man, as he caught sight of a few faces in the empty space by Merlin's shoulders, looking towards them from half a room away, muttering into their cups and scowling with distaste.

"You okay?" Merlin asked.

"I have fallen," Gwaine said dumbly and Merlin's mouth twitched, his lips pressing together from a barely restrained laugh, while his eyes crinkled.

"You have." Deep blue eyes darted back and forth between his, searching even if his tone and expression remained light with humour. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm, remains to be seen," he said, making a thoughtful expression. "Is the chamber still spinning?"

"It never did." Merlin's mouth twitched again.

"Oh, well, in that case." Gwaine closed his eyes and let his expression turn lax, as if going to sleep right then and there.

A small laugh came from above him, but the sound was quickly stifled. "I'm afraid a banquet hall is no place to sleep, sir Gwaine."

"I believe it is. It is rather comfortable from here." He cracked a single eye open, looking up at him.

"Won't be in a few hours when servants start making a racket while cleaning up. Come on," he said, clapping his arm, "on your feet." Then he slipped his arm beneath his and pulled him to his feet. Even as he was hauled upright, Gwaine made sure to wobble precariously, practically hanging on Merlin's arm with all his weight, leaning sideways and swaying all over the place. Truly, the performance of a lifetime. Merlin laughed and tipped him back, catching him around his shoulders, arm beneath his own. Not one to miss an opportunity, Gwaine threw his arm around his shoulders and leant into his side, feeling Merlin's quiet chuckle rumble against him.

Merlin turned him around and began walking, pulling him along. Most courtiers and dinner guests resumed their own conversation and stopped watching Gwaine and the spectacle he put on at every other feast, but he caught a few eyes, glancing their way as they wobbled out of the banquet hall. Half of them amused, tittering with gossip, even as it was happening before their conversation partners' eyes; the other half derisive and sneering, as they often were, when directed at Gwaine outside the training field and tournaments.

Arm in arm, Gwaine and Merlin walked out the Great Hall and its ornately decorated doors. Though it was rather graceless, what, with Gwaine zigzagging every few steps to the door.

"So, my friend, where are we going?" Gwaine asked as they passed the doorway's threshold, perhaps a little louder than necessary, but he really wanted the point to come across tonight; he wanted the gossip mill tomorrow to be full of the knight, who should have drowned his knighthood in mead and red wine by now, and who could not attend a feast without leaving a spectacle in his wake or the smell of vagabondery and incompetence behind himself.

"I've been instructed to take you to your chambers," Merlin huffed, rolling his eyes. "Apparently you can't be trusted on your own."

"How exciting! An adventure! Fit for the greatest knight in Camelot!" Gwaine exclaimed and lifted his free arm in imitation of raising his sword up high.

"And here I thought we've been on enough adventures to last a lifetime."

Shaking his head, Gwaine clicked his tongue. "That's where you go wrong. You can never have enough adventures, my friend."

Merlin grumbled under his breath and Gwaine would swear it sounded something like, he'd like to hear him repeat that when he's got something breathing down his neck. What that something was, Gwaine did not catch, but he swears it sounded close to an overgrown lizard. Admittedly, Gwaine had had some drinks and was a little inebriated, so he was not entirely sure he heard right or if he could trust himself on this one.

They walked for a little while. Moving through corridors of the castle, passing torches burning bright and flickering on the walls, their light warm and golden, as it washed over them in flashes of heat.

When they had passed through a few quiet corridors and walked a few stairs, the noise from the feast far behind them and not a soul near them, Merlin huffed a small laugh. "That tumble was particularly convincing today, I do believe Arthur thinks you drunk enough to destroy a few tapestries and suits of armour, if left to stumble back on your own."

"I haven't the faintest of what you could be insinuating," Gwaine said, tone preposterous and full of disbelief. "I'm as drunk as a barmaid's apron, Merlin, just look at my walk." And indeed, Gwaine had been wobbling along as they walked the hallways, leaning most of his weight into Merlin and his footsteps as unsteady as a boat in a storm at sea.

"Sure you don't." Gwaine could practically hear the roll of his eyes, but he could also hear the smile in his voice so he counted it as a victory. Drawn by his voice, he looked sideways to catch a glimpse of his smile. That was the moment his foot caught on his cloak and he stumbled. Falling, his arm yanked, catching hard and heavy around Merlin. Flailing about, Gwaine hung onto Merlin as he struggled against gravity, hopping to regain his footing.

Muscles straining against him, bulging against Gwaine's flailing body, Merlin strained against his weight and grunted. As Gwaine found his footing again, still walking forward with his arm around Merlin's shoulders, hanging onto him, as if he had never stumbled, he huffed loud and long-suffering. "Gwaine, I know you're not as drunk as you're pretending to be, can you please use your own legs to walk?"

"That wasn't me," he said as a matter of fact, his own feet solidly on the ground again, "it was the damn cloak." In emphasis, he grabbed a hold of the cloak and waved it in front of him.

Tilting his head sideways, Merlin threw him a heavily disbelieving look.

"I swear." Discarding the handful of fabric, he held out his hand. "The damn thing is out to get me." He threw a disgruntled look at the red fabric flapping about his feet with his every, wobbling step. "I think it knows all about my derogatory comments towards nobles."

"I don't think it cares, Gwaine."

"I think it does. It's in league with Uther, I just know it. Made a pact with him before he snuffed it and all."

"Alright, it was the cloak, but can you please just walk."

"I am walking."

"Properly."

"Ah well, since you asked so nicely." Easing his weight off of Merlin, he gained his feet beneath himself and dropped all pretence of stumbling and wobbling along. He kept his arm slung around Merlin's shoulders, though, and could not help but smile like a fool, when Merlin's arm also did not move from around his back. "But only because I like you best," he added, throwing him a winning grin and ruffling a hand through his hair.

"Yes, I'm sure you would have been a menace to anyone else forced to walk you to bed." Merlin rolled his eyes and swatted his hand away. As he did, Gwaine hooked a finger around his, brought his hand closer and smacked a kiss right onto his knuckles, because he thought it was a great idea and why not, they were alone walking through these deserted hallways and corridors. Might as well, you know.

Merlin let him kiss his knuckles, then brought his hand back to himself, huffing quietly under his breath. Probably used to his antics.

Gwaine took no heed of it and bumped his hip into his. "Well, that's half the fun of having a reputation such as myself," he said.

"What's the other half?" He crooked an eyebrow at him. Smile quirked and humoured.

Looking sideways and catching his eyes, Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows and grinned mischievously. "Hearing everyone slip me their secrets, because they think I'm too drunk to ever understand or remember them, when I have in fact, not a single drop of alcohol in my blood."

"Not one drop," Merlin repeated mockingly. "Now I know you're telling tall tales."

"Alright, but one mug of mead is far from the ten others usually think I'm deep in."

"True." Merlin allowed with a tilt of his head. "If that's what you're doing, when you're making spectacles of yourself, you must have enough gossip and secrets in that head to compete with the maids."

"Please," Gwaine scoffed and swatted a hand through the air, "they wish they knew half the secrets I do."

"I'm sure," he said, laughter bubbling in his voice and from his shoulders. It did not last long. Merlin fell quiet. And for a while, they continued to walk in silence. The air around them heavier than before, though Gwaine had no idea from where it came.

As he walked, Merlin kept his head down. Every few steps, Gwaine cast glances towards him, and though his face was cast in shadows with the occasional torch and candle light catching upon his high cheekbones and the planes of his face, it was not the shadows that kept him locked up. No. The expression he wore was lost to Gwaine, no matter the shadows or light that fell onto his face. The walls around them seemed to stretch the echo of their tapping footsteps and shifting fabric of Gwaine's cloak occasionally grazing the floor, unrecognisable.

Eventually, Merlin's shoulders shifted underneath Gwaine's arm, rising and falling with a heavy breath. "Aren't you tired of it, Gwaine?" he sighed, his voice tinged heavy and exhausted. Glancing sideways at him, Gwaine caught the heavy and tired expression pulling at his features, almost dragging them, now that he had raised his chin up, freeing his face from most of the shadows. Merlin still did not look towards him, keeping his head faced determinedly forward and his eyes fixed straight ahead. "Tired of pretending and putting up a front?"

"Hmm, not really," Gwaine said, a light frown appearing on his brow at the weight in Merlin's voice. "I know the people who can't be bothered to look past it don't matter, and it serves me well enough to be overlooked as the drunken knight no one takes seriously."

"Why do you do it?" his tone was still far too heavy and tired. A state Gwaine was becoming more and more familiar with, the more time that passed; a state it seemed Merlin fell further and further into it the more time passed since Lancelot's death. No matter how much he tried to hide it. Chest twinging with a deep ache — like a mirror of the pit pulling at Merlin, reached for him just by hearing its presence in Merlin's voice — Gwaine tightened his arm around him, as if trying to pull him away from that heavy pit that pulled at him. And Merlin added, still with a soul-deep exhaustion beyond comprehension, "Why do you pretend that you're a scoundrel and a drunkard?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Gwaine answered, voice soft and gentle, "why do you let people think you're a fool?"

Merlin huffed, jostling him and pulling his arm further around his shoulder, as if Gwaine was still stumbling around in a drunkard's shoes. "It's better that way," he mumbled, glancing down and away.

Gwaine looked sideways, directly into the side of his head, no matter Merlin was resolutely looking the other way. "For who?" he asked.

Merlin did not reply.

They continued in silence. Occasionally, Gwaine's eyes would stray to the man beside him. The wall opposite the windows carried the occasional torch, flickering with softly crackling flames, casting a warm, yellow light upon him and the corridor they walked. Silver moonlight fell in through every window they passed and with the golden, flickering light from torches, a kaleidoscope of shifting silver and golden light fell all over Merlin's pale skin, touching him with an ever-shifting ethereal glow, casting him in fey-like quality, as if he had stepped out of the stories of fey-kind and other unearthly beings, only to walk in companionable pace with Gwaine on a moonlit night, several floors away from a revelry filled banquet hall.

What he saw, underneath the touch of flickering flame and the silver moon, Gwaine did not know how to name. It was an expression he did not often see there, as Merlin more often than not, either wore smiles (though these could be argued against, as they did not always reach his eyes, especially these days) or frantic energy throwing his features into such movement, the nature of them could not be determined in the brief glimpses that Gwaine could catch of Merlin in these instances, before he was gone again; the echo of his voice hanging like a trail left behind him, as the only evidence he had ever been there. It was like trying to catch the wind in his hands, or the reflection of stars in a lake; as soon as he cupped his hands around it and tried to hold onto it or bring it closer, it was gone, slipped from between his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to keep it there. But that was its nature. Who was he to keep it there? And really, he did not want to keep Merlin from flitting all over the place — frantic or otherwise — he simply wanted to join him in it, or to let him know that Gwaine would remain standing where he was, so he always knew he was there to return to, whenever he got a moment to breathe and needed a place to rest.

Tonight, the shadows from Merlin's heavy and tired question did not seem to want to leave him. So Gwaine did the only reasonable thing he could do. And that was act the fool, so he did not have to.

Groaning loudly and letting his own weight drag, hanging onto Merlin, he started to lean to the side, stupid and tipsy once more. "Hang on, hang on," he said, dragging his words in simple slur and stumbling over his feet, reaching for the wall, "stop here for a bit." He stumbled to the side, pulling them towards the wall.

"Gwaine, what?" Merlin huffed, not without some amusement, feet shuffling across the floor as he was pulled along by Gwaine's arm around his back.

"I like this wall," he said, turning to lean up against the cold stone and resting against it. Arm eased halfway off Merlin's shoulder.

"It's just a wall." He remained a few steps away from him, their arms still raised and held out, holding onto each other by just their shoulders and arms, the best they could with the space between them, since Merlin seemed adamant to say standing on his own two feet.

"Yeah, and I like it." Though he might not have been half as drunk as he pretended to be, he had still had enough to drink to be considered a small hazard, his veins and stomach buzzing pleasantly with alcohol. Thanks to his years of travel and gallivanting, he had far too much experience with drinking to be more than tipsy by the drinks he had had, but it was a pleasant buzz in his stomach and a lightness in the space between his ears. Also, his skin was a little too hot. Like he had been lying out in the hot summer sun for hours and the gambesome beneath his chainmaille was really starting to heat up uncomfortably against him. Not nearly enough to act the way he had in the Great Hall upon exiting or the way he was now, as if seeking shelter against unsteady legs through the wall. But if he did not like the look on Merlin's face and was rather desperate to see it vanish, then that was his business and his business alone. And the ceiling above him for which he sought aid in its cracks and shadows. But otherwise, his business alone.

Merlin huffed and rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips twitched and as Gwaine tugged on his arm in response, he allowed him to pull him the rest of the way to the wall with him, sliding his arm back around his shoulders. Pressing them up against one another. Hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, Merlin's arm around his shoulder and Gwaine's around his back.

For a short while, they just stood there, leant up against the wall and tipped slightly towards each other.

Then, Gwaine turned his head and looked at him. Merlin's eyes were already fixed on him. There was a quizzical pull on his brow, a quirked eyebrow that Gwaine did not understand, though a pleased upturn of his mouth told him it was not anything bad. He wondered at the question, though. Until he realised he had his hand buried in the nape of Merlin's hair, carding his fingers through the strands.

But Merlin had not moved away and he was smiling so Gwaine kept doing it.

It was nice. His hair was lovely against his fingers, a little coarse and wavy, and nicer than Gwaine had ever imagined.

Merlin's eyes flickered down to his lips. Such an action usually made Gwaine smirk, but this was Merlin and Merlin had always been different. Where other people's gaze to his lips brought a satisfied feeling, Merlin's gaze lit a warmth in his stomach and made his heart hammer against his chest.

With a sharp intake of breath, Merlin jerked his head away. Sticking it and his gaze straight forward, his jaw set and resolute.

Gwaine kept staring at him. The buzz in his stomach turned sour and wobbly. All wrong. Swallowing the sour taste, it moved quickly down his throat and joined the twisting wobble in his stomach, to stew there like one of Gaius' infamous, foul potions.

Lips pulling up, he tried for a smile. "I still owe you for making sure I had that week of light training, you know," he said lightly, banishing the feeling all together in favour of something far lighter.

"Is that so?" A smile curled lopsided from Merlin's lips. Head tipped back, leant against the wall, he let his head turn along the wall, tilting it to look at Gwaine with a quirked eyebrow and knowing eyes that gleamed with humour.

"It is so," Gwaine declared, nodding and held a hand to his chest. "And a great favour it was, I ended up missing out on several long runs in full armour and you know how I hate that."

"I do know."

"So, you can see I cannot possibly let it pass without making my gratitude known." Eyes crinkling, his smile stretched into something knowing, as it was apparently not enough for his eyes to hold it. Ignoring it, Gwaine raised his free hand and tapped a finger against his chin, acting so very oblivious to the light in Merlin's blue eyes. "Now, what did I say when you first spoke of it?" He tapped a few more times, then lifted his finger high. "Ah," he said, "I remember now. I do believe, I said I would be grateful enough to press a kiss to thine lips." Grinning, he patted himself down, clearly so very oblivious and innocent to the twist forming on Merlin's lips. "And I do reckon I no longer smell of dirt and horse."

"Are you sure about that?" Grinning lopsided, Merlin arched an eyebrow at him, pointed and so very knowing.

"A scoundrel and drunkard I may be, but I am no pigsty."

"Are you trying to come onto me, sir Gwaine?" The eyebrow rose further. It was remarkable, really. Perhaps, he had learned more than a physician's art from Gaius.

"I am trying to make a heartfelt expression of gratitude." Gwaine put his hand on his chest, expression affronted and tone even more so.

Smiling still, he rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, your intentions are completely altruistic and innocent, right?" voice dripping sardonically and sarcastically.

"Merlin, I am most wounded you would disbelieve me so." Hand on his chest, sounding as playfully hurt and good-humoured as he could, his words were met with a loud snort, Merlin's face twisting in humoured disbelief. "Unbelievable." Gwaine threw his hand into the air. "You try to be nice and make a gesture of— of grati—" as he fumbled for his words, Merlin stepped away from the wall and came to stand in front of him, clamping a hand on top of his mouth, shutting him up. Palm pressing into his lips and fingers on his cheek. The last word caught in his palm and Gwaine's still moving lips brushed against his skin. Though his mouth stilled at the loss of his words, the drag of his lips against Merlin's hand made his lips feel tingle and prickle softly. Forcefully tearing his own eyes away from Merlin's lips and wishing he could move his lips again, this time to press a proper kiss into the palm covering it and hovering so enticingly near, the warmth of it emanating from it towards his lips, Gwaine looked into blue eyes, above which eyebrows were quirked, half-pointedly, half-humorously.

"Gwaine?" Gwaine raised his eyebrows in answer. "You are not very believable."

"I believe I am," he said, voice muffled behind Merlin's hand. Every word causing his lips to catch on Merlin's palm, brushing against his skin.

"Uh huh," Merlin nodded, taking a step closer, his hand still on his mouth, body just barely up against his own, it made Gwaine's heart hiccup inside of his chest, despite the armour he wore that separated them, "a kiss just for gratitude?" his voice lowered, turning almost to a whisper in the small space between them.

"Exactly. Just gratitude..." the words blew softly from his mouth, carried on a mere whispering breath, nearly getting lost in Merlin's skin, so very faint it trailed off into nothing.

"What's a kiss between friends?" Merlin whispered, closer still, then slid his hand away from his mouth, brushing it away across his cheek and down his throat, touching it to his neck instead. Palm warm against his skin where it cupped the nape of his neck. His breath blew across his lips, a small gust of air, before his lips came upon his.

Their lips slotted together. Warm and soft and firm and everything Gwaine had ever wanted. They sealed together, the softest of breaths blowing from Merlin's lungs to his own. Gwaine swept his arm around Merlin's back, drawing him closer still and Merlin went, leaning into him, heedless of the chainmaille that met him. Body crowding against his, firm and solid and warm where his armour did not reach, his presence flooded his senses. Floating like a small aura around him and the whole world became Merlin and Merlin alone.

Grateful he was not forced to wear his gloves to feasts, Gwaine pressed his palms flat against Merlin's back. Even through the chainmaille and gambeson underneath it, Gwaine felt Merlin's body firm and solid against him, his very presence setting his nerves alight, as if he was being seared into his very flesh and bones, through his kiss alone.

With a soft sound, the kiss broke, but their bodies did not. They remained pressed up against his other, chest moving up and down as they heaved quietly for air.

Sighing softly, Merlin tipped his head forward and leaned his forehead into his, eyes never once straying from Gwaine's. There was a look in his eyes, something Gwaine could not decipher.

"What?" he asked quietly, voice rumbling.

Merlin shook his head and did not say a word. His hand lifted from his neck, only to land higher up. Fingers lifted and touched his cheek, flicking lightly over his skin. And still he just stared into his eyes. Gaze unfathomable and so very deep, Gwaine could have been drowning in the ocean for all he knew.

After a moment of just staring wordlessly at him, Merlin tipped his head and caught his lips in another kiss. This one soft and tender, leaving Gwaine no less breathless than the heated one from before.

The kiss was endless and impossibly short; the blink of an eye and the passing on an eternity.

Far away a door slammed and laughter drifted down their corridor, breaking through the air all around them, louder than it actually was.

Merlin eased his lips away from his, tipping his forehead forward and pressing it against Gwaine's, more pointed than before, like leaning all of his weight into him from that point alone. Every breath fell from his lips and fanned across Gwaine's tender mouth, gusting across his wet lips in puffs of air, shooting small tingles through them with his every exhalation.

"Has your need for gratitude been satisfied?" he asked impossibly soft.

"It has," the words were a faint whisper, rasping from his mouth.

Easing away from him, Merlin went to step away, but Gwaine caught him before he could slip too far.

"Walk me to my room still?" Gwaine was not drunk, they were both well aware of this, but Merlin still slipped his arm beneath his again, wrapping it around his back, as Gwaine in turn eased his arm around his shoulders; any chance at feeling Merlin's body against his own, he would take. And they started walking once more.

A corridor later, Gwaine asked, "Are you needed later tonight?"

"No, Gwen said they were good for the rest of the night and she would help Arthur out of his armour. She also threatened me with bodily harm, if she saw me again before tomorrow."

"That's good, then."

The rest of the walk to Gwaine's chamber was in comfortable silence. Even if Gwaine's lips never did stop tingling with intense awareness of just how close Merlin's lips had been.

As soon as they were inside Gwaine's chambers, the door closed firmly behind them, Merlin stepped away, out of his arm and went to lit a few candles.

Gwaine went to take his armour off, grumbling a small curse under his breath about having to dress up in fucking armour of all things, whenever there was a feast or banquet. Just as he grasped onto the chainmaille to pull it off, warm hands descended on him once more, falling onto his own and stopping him in his tracks.

"Merlin, you don't have to do that." He paused, turned his head and looked over his shoulder at him. "You're not my servant and gods know you do it for Arthur often enough. When you're not working, you're not working and I'm not gonna ask you to."

"And if I'm offering?"

"I'm still not asking," he said resolutely. Merlin did enough running around for them, in his opinion. He had asked him here as his friend, not as a servant.

Smiling, Merlin quirked an eyebrow. "And I'm offering as your friend." The smile turned crooked and mischievous. "Besides, I thought you were supposed to be too drunk to take care of yourself?"

"In that case, knock yourself out." Together they lifted the heavy chainmaille off him. While Gwaine untied the padded gambeson and slipped it off his shoulders, Merlin stepped off to the side and draped the chainmaille over the wooden frame it hung on, when not in use. When the gambeson was off, Merlin reached for it as well, and hung it in its place, too.

Gwaine smiled warmly at him, then sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his boots. Shrugged out of his breeches and his tunic, throwing them into a laundry basket by the wardrobe. He cast a glance at Merlin and found his eyes stuck to his exposed chest. He almost stayed where he was, but he remembered the way Merlin had pulled away from him, when he had treated the cut on his thigh and he did not want him to pull away again or leave. It was a miracle he had not done so after the kiss, after all, there was no reason to test the fates even further.

Boots set off to the side, Gwaine let himself fall into bed with a large sigh.

Merlin went around blowing out the few candles he had lit, and brought a second to the table by the side of his bed, placing it beside the candle already burning there.

Wiggling around, Gwaine drew the blanket around himself. As the side of the bed, Merlin looked down at him with exasperated fondness. There was a conflict in his eyes, a frown that crossed his brow, but then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gwaine's forehead. Hand sweeping up and sweeping his hair away and back over his head.

As he straightened back up, Gwaine's arm shot out and he grabbed onto his arm, halting him still bent forward. Merlin's eyes darted to his, his eyebrows lifting upwards on his brow.

"You can stay here and sleep tonight?" he offered, voice soft and warm. "I know you're dead on your feet. You've been up working since dawn and not had a break to rest since the feast began. There's a long way to that tower on tired legs."

"I think I can manage," he said with a smile and humour dancing in his eyes.

"I haven't mentioned the best part yet," Gwaine said and patted the bed. "This bed is the best quality Camelot — nay all five kingdoms — has to offer. It's all sort of soft and lovely and warm. Particularly wonderful after a hard day's work." Merlin's smile twitched into a smirk and there was that knowing look in his eyes again. "I promise I will keep my hands to myself." He held up his free hand in surrender, still afraid of letting go of Merlin's arm, in case it allowed him to slip out of his chamber before Gwaine could even blink.

"You really don't have to, Gwaine. My bed is fine. At least I have a bed and not just a wooden floor."

"That's not exactly a comforting comparison, my friend." Looking up at him, he gave him an imploring look. One he knew was far softer than he intended it to be. "Merlin, you work twice as hard and nearly twice as long as the rest of us and by the end of the day you have to return to a small, hard cot in a cold room." At that Merlin's lips twitched, but he said nothing. "I just want you to have a nice rest in a comfortable bed for once. Honest." Finally, Merlin's smile softened, as did the look in his eyes. And Gwaine could not help but smile warmly at him; the smile he knew he never gave anyone else; the smile only Merlin could pull from him. He patted the bed again. "See? Nice and soft. Here—" finally, he let go of his arm, only to turn around in bed, turning his back to him and moving more towards the other side, leaving an empty space for him, before him where he stood hunched over "—I'll even turn my back."

"You don't have to do that."

"I sleep better on my side anyway." Not true, he could sleep comfortably no matter where or when, but he also knew it would be harder to not reach for Merlin, if he could see him. And if having his back turned made Merlin comfortable enough to take him up on his offer, then Gwaine would happily lie on his side and stare at a wall all night.

There was a small pause, then the bed dipped. Fabric rustled and dropped to the floor. Boots thunked on wooden floorboards, as they were set aside. Then, the blankets were being pulled at and Merlin slipped into bed beside him.

"Oh, that's almost as nice as Arthur's."

Gwaine huffed a chuckle, turning his head more towards the ceiling and him. "And you know this how?"

"I may have taken a nap in it while he was busy elsewhere once or twice."

"Hah! I knew it! No way you wouldn't, you sneaky bastard."

"But don't tell him," there was laughter in his voice as he spoke, "it's been a while since I've seen the stocks, and I rather like keeping our relationship as acquaintances."

"My lips are sealed." There was the sound of a harsh blow and the soft, gentle glow of the candles on the small table on Merlin's side of the bed went out, putting the chamber into complete darkness and a small smell of smoke curling in the air.

Gwaine waited a little while, eyes looking out at the shadows encompassing his chambers and the space between bed and wall. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, I am," Merlin said, soft and gentle. "Thank you."

"All you have to do is ask, Merlin, you know," his own voice was low, soft in the quiet chamber.

Two fingers grazed his shoulders. But only for a moment, hardly more than a breath, then they were gone. Their touch lingered like ghosts against his skin. Tingling his skin with their ghostly presence. "Thank you," this too was a ghost, spoken so softly it almost vanished in the space between them.

"Of course," he said.

Then, "Goodnight, Gwaine."

"Night, Merlin."

Gwaine fell asleep with Merlin's shoulder pressing against him, the rounded curve of it and part of his arm along his back. Warmth from his body spreading from every point they touched.

Gwaine did not once reach for him or even turn around to look. Despite the ache in his arms and the tender throbbing of his heart to reach out and draw him near and hold him close. Even looking felt wrong. Forbidden. No matter how knowing Merlin's eyes had been, as he had asked for a kiss, this was too far. A line he would not cross.

He had been honest.

He only wanted Merlin to get some well-deserved rest. Even if that did benefit Gwaine as well, by letting him sense Merlin's body, soft and resting and warm, right beside his own. A comfort to carry him through the night. A knowledge that he was okay in this moment.

In the morning when he woke up, Merlin was gone.

52 notes · View notes