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I.
"I thought you didn't like getting up early," Merlin mutters, his body hunched over the dying fire with his arms wrapped around himself.
Gwaine dropped his fur over Merlin's shoulders and sat beside him. "That's because it's the coldest part of the day," he says. Merlin leans against him, shivering. "Arthur shouldn't have you keeping watch by yourself."
It's an argument they've already had.
Merlin gives a half-hearted breathy laugh, his breath puffing out in a white cloud, and Gwaine lets it go though he doesn't want to. It's hard for him to understand how Arthur can take Merlin for granted like this. He always gives him the hardest, coldest shift with no one to back him up. Apparently, at least according to Merlin, he volunteered.
He wraps an arm around Merlin's back and rests his hand on Merlin's bicep, rubbing it to warm it up.
"What about you?" Merlin asks, eyebrow quirked as a bratty gleam tugs at the corner of his lips. Gwaine wants to kiss him.
"Woke up and couldn't back to sleep," he answers, and it's not a lie. He doesn't care to lie, but neither does he want to put any pressure on his best friend. The fact of the matter is that he can't sleep knowing Merlin is outside by himself as the first line of defense for any kind of bandit that may choose to storm the camp. But all of that doesn't need saying, partly because he's said it all before.
So Merlin nods and they sit in silence, Merlin accepting Gwaine's warmth while Gwaine kicks lewd shapes in the dirt with his boots.
II.
They've been riding for a while when Gwaine opens a debate about who makes the best wines in Camelot.
He tosses his wineskin to Percival with a challenge. "Take a sip of that and tell me you can't feel the women on either arm," he says, voice gritty and low for dramatic effect. As he says it, though, his eyes cast to the front at Merlin riding alongside Arthur. He's paying a glance back to Gwaine, and though their eyes meet, it's brief and awkward and they both look away.
Percival drinks the wine and gags before tossing it back for Leon.
"Tell the little man he's got it wrong," he says, but Leon doesn't bother drinking it.
"I'll take your word for it," he says and tosses it back to Gwaine who fumbles and drops it, his mind stuck on the hint of rouge that heated Merlin's cheeks a moment ago.
"Ah, shit," he mutters, pulling back on the horse's reins. "If it spills out, you're all paying for me when we get back." He calls out another curse before while he waits for a few more knights to pass.
It's a few good, solid moments, and even Elyan has joined in the hollering at him from up ahead by the time he starts to get impatient. He grimaces a sarcastic smile at them and hops down off his horse, fumbling through the fallen foliage to try and find where it landed. It's tough in his chainmail; it wasn't designed for tasking, and it's times like this he misses his easy days in light leather.
But the heavy armor is for Camelot – for Merlin. He wouldn't give it up.
The horse takes the break as a chance to wander down to the brook and have a drink, but she walks too close to Gwaine, who's squatting top-heavy pushing leafs around, and he falls flat on his ass.
By this point, the party's out of sight. He heaves a heavy sigh and elects to stay like that a moment, listening to the horses and riders as they leave him further behind, wallowing on the cold, wet ground.
The wineskin is right beside him.
He gives a dry laugh up for himself and snatches it, taking a nice, hearty swill of the bitter, cheap wine within. He thinks to himself he'd rather be at a tavern with those women on either arm right now.
The wineskin stays at his mouth even as he hears a horse's hooves clomping through the mud toward him. It's Merlin's laughter that comes from atop it.
Gwaine lets the wineskin fall back to his lap and he smiles up at Merlin. "Just taking a break," he says as Merlin hops down off his own horse, and he does something Gwaine didn't expect: He takes a seat beside him.
"Arthur sent me to make sure you don't get lost," he says, resting his arms on his knees as he bumps Gwaine's shoulder with his own. Gwaine's not sure he believes that. Silence surrounds them a moment as Gwaine passes Merlin the wineskin and Merlin takes it.
"Sorry I'm no barmaid," Merlin says with a wrinkled nose when he passes it back.
"Eh, that's alright," Gwaine replies as he takes another swill. It feels right, being alone with Merlin, just sitting like this. Resting. He wishes they had more chances to be alone like this. "You're a good substitute, if I had to say."
"Well, that's reassuring."
He lets out a long, slow breath. This is good. They lean against each other for a good few minutes before Merlin gets up and helps pull Gwaine to his feet. He still wants to kiss Merlin, but the moment is passed.
III.
"—And Merlin can get the morning watch."
"I'll take it with him," Gwaine blurts out, unsurprised by his own boldness. He resents Arthur for this constant use of Merlin.
"The morning is the safest watch, it doesn't need to be doubled."
"Elyan and Percival don't need me," he argues, gesturing to the two men who both snort and nod as if to say you got that right.
"If I recall correctly, aren't you the one who complains the loudest about early wakeup calls?"
Gwaine shrugs. It's true. He doesn't need to defend it, mornings are awful. But he's volunteering so it shouldn't matter.
Arthur looks to Merlin, who's busy with their dinner, as if lost in thought. Then, he nods. "Alright. You'll take the morning watch with Merlin. And you'll help him ready the horses while you're at it."
He groans and rolls his eyes back but he takes it all the same.
When he wakes partway through what was supposed to be his shift with Merlin, it's with a bit of a start. It's still dark outside the tents, but the birds are starting to sing. He moves quickly from his bedding and pokes his head to first check if Merlin will need his furs again. Merlin is standing over the fire pit even though the fire is out with one hand outstretched. He starts to reach for the fur, but something stops him. Maybe it's the cautious glance back at Arthur's tent and around the camp.
The next moment is self-explanatory.
Merlin mutters something Gwaine can't hear and his eyes flash gold as the fire starts up, un-touched. Gwaine forgets about the fur.
"That's a neat trick," he says as he steps out of the tent.
Merlin's back stiffens and he looks at Gwaine like a spooked dear. He feels both guilty and amused.
"Relax, I won't tell." He's too tired to really give much reassurance, he did just wake up after all, but he does come and sit by the fire, patting the seat beside him for Merlin to join.
"That why Princess lets you keep watch alone?"
He tries not to let the jealousy show, but Merlin shakes his head and it dissipates almost immediately into something more like pity as Merlin tells him, in a quiet and urgent voice,
"He doesn't know." And then, soon after as he takes his seat at Gwaine's side, "He can't know."
"Well, he won't find out from me."
It seems like a relief, but Merlin's back is still rigid and he seems uneasy all the same. It makes Gwaine uneasy.
"Must be a heavy secret," he whispers. He tries to bounce shoulders, but Merlin leans away. It stings a little, especially compounded with the revelation. Though he understands not pronouncing magic in a kingdom where it's not allowed, Gwaine wasn't from Camelot. That and – they are friends.
"I promise it's safe with me," he adds, and Merlin finally seems to relax. "You have my word."
"Great," says Merlin. "The word of a drunk." It's meant as a joke. Gwaine gives a smile that's part grimace and wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull him in and mess up his hair.
"You'll have to show me what you can do later."
"Are you making a pass at me?" Merlin asks, his usual dopey, bright smile replacing the worry from a moment before as he pushed out of Gwaine's grip.
"I meant more like pranking Leon, but you're free to take it however you wish."
IV.
It's the last night of the hunt before the return the Camelot and, tired, crabby, and filthy, most of the knights have elected to retire early. Merlin has already served their dinner, but the pot has yet to be rinsed and no one really seems to care.
The fact of the matter is that it isn't happening any time soon, as Merlin is sound asleep on Gwaine's shoulder.
And the few knights who are awake still, and not sour from their lack of spirits, are teasing Gwaine who, red-faced and happy, is determinedly keeping people quiet around him so as not to wake the sleeping servant.
"He's done more work than you lot!" his whispers as a counter to the insistence that the knights have worked so hard on this hunting trip.
Merlin stirs against his side and while they all laugh, Gwaine, smiling and somewhat giddy, tries his best to quiet them with a finger to his lips.
"You're treating him like a cat," Elyan laughs.
Arthur walks over then, hands on his hips, and he looks down at Gwaine with his arm around Merlin as Merlin sleeps, completely unaware of all the attention. Everyone falls quiet, as if he might scold them – and even Gwaine's delight feels shadowed for a moment.
"Isn't he a cat?" he offers, and everyone laughs again. "He can't stay like that, I need help with my armor." He says it with a small pout, but Leon just pats him on the back and gently guides him back to his own tent, offering quietly to help.
Eventually, the teasing subsides and Leon re-emerges to let Gwaine know that he and Merlin may, with the king's permission, take the night off from guard duty.
They're mostly by themselves now. Percival and Elyan are off a little ways chatting as they keep watch while Merlin stirs against his side. Gwaine has yet to move, and his arm has long since fallen asleep.
But now, he really wants to kiss him.
Looking on his face, he sees the wear of decades. When they'd met barely a few years ago, he looked so happy. Gwaine always wondered what it was the dragged him down and wore him out, but he sees it now. It was his secret.
Not that Gwaine didn't appreciate him before, but like Arthur, he was able to take him for granted without knowing the whole of it. Knowing the truth about his magic makes him feel closer than ever now, and on top of it, well… He was already attracted to the skinny young thing, but it swells now to insane levels.
And the thought of Merlin showing him what he's capable of…
The truth is, he just really wants to kiss him.
So he does.
He leans over and presses his lips against Merlin's cheek. Affectionate and chaste, but sincere all the same. Merlin stirs. Groggy and barely conscious, he turns into it and raises his chin so his lips meet with Gwaine's. Gwaine keeps it light but kisses back, bringing his free hand to Merlin's cheek.
The younger man's eyes flutter open and he immediately sets to a bout of, "Sorry! I shouldn't have-" but Gwaine quiets him by laughing.
"I'm the one who kissed you, Merlin," he says; Merlin's blush deepens, and Gwaine can't help but smile. Merlin smiles back. They kiss again.
V.
Merlin slinks into the tent behind Gwaine, both giggling at their indiscretion as they fumble into his warm furs, their mouths barely parting from each other as they fall to the ground. They're like mad loons, drunk and in love, only they're sober and, so far as Gwaine's concerned, they're perfectly sane and rational and if anyone else thinks kissing the man you love is mad, then Gwaine is very sorry for them.
As it is, however, he's completely content to crawl on top of Merlin, kissing him as much as possible and in as many places as possible – his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, sure, but also his jaw, his brows, his ears, his neck, his collar. Even at Merlin's insistence that it tickles, stop it!, he persists.
He does stop at Merlin's quiet "hold on! Hold on!" long enough to see his eyes flash gold and he looks around them to see what's changed.
"Now they can't hear," he says, then, more dully, "I think. I've never tried that one before."
Gwaine looks down at Merlin, impressed and pleased and excited all at once. "What else haven't you tried?" he asks, sitting back as he straddles Merlin's stomach.
"No, no, no," Merlin says quickly. "We're not doing that. Not tonight."
Gwaine accepts that 'next time' silently, though the idea of playing around with magic at camp excites him too much to let it slide.
"Then what do you know you can do?"
Merlin pauses a beat before he lifts himself onto his elbows, whispering a spell that slowly pushes at Gwaine's back and lowera him so that Merlin can kiss him.
How needy, Gwaine thinks. He finds it adorable. And he kisses him again.