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Leon enjoyed writing letters. There was something restful about it, and he appreciated the way it helped him to work through events in his mind simply by laying them out for another person to read. His mother had long been grateful for Leon’s proclivity as it meant she was always kept up to date on his life, as well as the goings-on at the castle itself.
Leon’s mother was a bit of a gossip, not that he would ever say so to her face.
The night was chilly and Leon was looking forward to sitting at his desk by the fire in his chambers, writing and sipping from his mug of hot spiced wine. A perfect evening.
There was a knock on his door.
Leon determinedly ignored it, focusing on the blank parchment instead.
Dearest Mother,
The knock came again. It wasn’t really a knock, more like pounding. It was annoying. Leon sighed and looked regretfully at his barely started letter and the mug of spiced wine. Perhaps he could get whoever it was to leave quickly.
Standing up, Leon walked over to the door and opened it.
On the other side was Gwaine. Deprived of the support of the door he had been leaning against, he slid into Leon, who just barely managed to catch him.
“About time,” Gwaine mumbled into Leon’s neck. He seemed quite content to remain where he was and, indeed, lifted his arms to wrap around Leon’s back as if they were hugging, rather than Gwaine having so rudely collapsed on Leon.
Oddly, Leon wasn’t entirely certain he minded. The hug, at least. He did mind the rudeness, and especially the interruption. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you drunk?”
The answer was very likely yes, Leon knew. The nights Gwaine didn’t spend in the tavern getting drunk were few and far between.
“Little bit,” Gwaine admitted.
Leon was about to shove him off in disgust when he noticed something else. The hair in Leon’s face was matted with -
“Are you bleeding?”
“Am I?” Gwaine raised a hand to his own head as if he hadn’t noticed before Leon pointed it out to him.
“Gwaine,” Leon said, holding him at arm’s length. “Why are you bleeding?”
Gwaine looked sheepish. “Tripped.”
“You tripped.”
“Might be more than a little bit drunk.”
“Oh, Gwaine,” Leon said, and sighed.
“The streets are uneven round here,” Gwaine insisted. “Arthur should do something about that.”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to tell him. He shouldn’t let such an important piece of business escape his notice.”
“You’re making fun of me. ‘s not nice, Leon.”
“I’m not certain what else you expect when you show up in my chambers so drunk you tripped.”
“Oh, I don’t know, some courtesy, perhaps? Isn’t that the point of you, Sir Leon? To be courteous?” Gwaine poked Leon in the shoulder as if to emphasize his point.
“You don’t need courtesy. What you need is a physician. You should go and see Gaius.”
“Don’t want to see Gaius, or else I’d be there and not here, wouldn’t I? Now let me lie down. I think I need to lie down.”
“In my bed?” Leon said, disturbed by the thought of blood getting on his sheets, but Gwaine was already flopped out on top of it.
Leon sighed again. Why did these things happen to him? And why was it always Gwaine? “Let me at least have a look at you, then.” He knelt next to the bed and pushed Gwaine’s hair out of the way so he could inspect the wound. The bleeding had stopped and it had already begun to form a scab. It wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought.
He used a bit of water from his washing bowl and a towel to clean it out, and to wash away the blood that was sticking in Gwaine’s hair. Gwaine remained remarkably still through Leon’s ministrations, letting him fuss without complaint. Leon knew that probably meant Gwaine felt worse than he was letting on.
“There, it’s not so bad,” Leon said when he was finished. “It was just all your hair, matting up with the blood.”
“Not my hair,” Gwaine half mumbled, half groaned into Leon’s pillow.
“There, there, don’t panic. I’ve cleaned it for you.”
“You’re a real friend.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Leon started fussing at Gwaine’s clothes, checking for blood or any other sign of injury.
“If you wanted me naked you could’ve just asked.”
Leon thought about hitting him but then decided that would be counter-productive.
“I’m not hurt, honestly. Maybe a bruise or two, that’s all.” Gwaine paused a moment and then said, “Think I might be sick, though.”
“Not in my bed!” Leon protested, horrified.
“Once again I’m astounded by your kindness.”
“I’d like to see how kind you are when someone threatens to be sick all over your bed.”
“I’d let you be sick in my bed, Leon,” Gwaine proclaimed just before tugging his knees in to his chest and curling into a ball, his eyes squeezed closed as if warding off a wave of nausea.
Leon hurried to bring the chamber pot within easy reach of Gwaine, in case of any accidents. He was sorry Gwaine was poorly, he truly was, but the possibility of vomit in his bed was simply too much to bear.
“Try to breathe,” Leon encouraged him, sitting down on the bed beside Gwaine’s compacted body. “Easy, slow breaths. In,” he said, demonstrating the rhythm. “Out.”
Gwaine took a shaky breath himself, then another, evening out as he tried to match Leon. Leon gently rubbed Gwaine’s back in soothing circles. Eventually Leon could feel some of the tenseness leave Gwaine’s muscles, but he kept up the movement of his hand anyway.
“Massage works better with my shirt off,” Gwaine said, surprising a laugh out of Leon.
“You mustn’t be feeling too badly, then, if you can make a joke,” he said.
“Oh, there’s always room for jokes. But I do feel a wee bit better. You make a lovely nursemaid.”
“And you’re strangely more bearable this way than when you’re well.” The thing was, though, Leon wasn’t a nursemaid, of any kind. He wasn’t a particularly good caretaker and he wasn’t sure why Gwaine would have thought it a good idea to come to him for help.
So he did the simple thing, and asked. “Why did you come here?”
Gwaine was quiet for several long moments and then he said, “Thought you wouldn’t laugh.”
Leon felt his heart clench. “You should have gone to Gaius, and Merlin. Merlin wouldn’t have laughed.”
“No, but he would have told Arthur, and Arthur would have told everyone else, and it’d be just some story for them all to laugh at, stupid drunken Gwaine getting into trouble again. Just like always.”
Leon suddenly felt guilty for every time he had laughed at Gwaine. They didn’t mean anything by it, and Gwaine had never seemed to care. Gwaine had often seemed to encourage it, in fact.
But Leon knew that people did odd things to protect themselves, sometimes.
“And you think I won’t say anything?” Leon asked.
“Will you?”
It was a straightforward question, and Gwaine asked it in an off-handed way. And yet… and yet there was something hiding in Gwaine’s tone, in his eyes, something that was open and vulnerable in a way that Gwaine never was. Maybe it was only because he wasn’t well, but maybe it was something else. Leon was inclined to think it was something else.
“No,” he said.
“Like I said, you’re a real friend.” It was mostly joke, but there was gratitude, there, as well.
If questioned about it, Leon wouldn’t be able to say why he did what he did then. But he did it. He brushed his hand through Gwaine’s hair, pushing it back from his face, and leaned down to press a kiss against Gwaine’s skin.
Gwaine twitched in surprise, but before he could say anything Leon stood up, embarrassed.
“All right, well, you should get some rest, so I’m going to--”
But Gwaine stopped him from moving away, stretching out his arm to tug at Leon’s sleeve. “Don’t leave, okay?”
Leon looked down at him, lying there, looking like… Like someone Leon cared for, and someone who needed him. Needed him now, but maybe Gwaine had needed him before, too, only he hadn’t known how to show it. And maybe Leon needed Gwaine, too. Leon kind of liked the way Gwaine was a pain in the arse, really, and wasn’t that just… sad?
He sat back down. “What would I leave for? This is my room, remember? Besides, I’m not likely to leave you alone so that you can die in your sleep, in my bed.”
Gwaine would manage to die in Leon’s bed, just to spite him. Then he would probably haunt the bedroom. Or just Leon in general.
“My head hurts a lot. Maybe you should lie down next to me, just to make sure I’m okay,” Gwaine offered, grinning now.
“Why, thank you, Gwaine, thank you for allowing me to lie down in my own bed.”
“I know, I’m such a generous soul.”
Leon cast one last look over at the table with his ink and parchment and most certainly no longer hot spiced wine before bending over to unlace his boots.
“You could take it all off, if you wanted,” Gwaine said. “Do you sleep in the nude? Don’t hold back on my account.”
“I do not sleep in the nude,” Leon sniffed. He did slip out of his shirt, though, but at Gwaine’s low whistle he decided that, rather than changing, it would be all right to sleep in the trousers he’d been wearing all day, just this once.
When he settled onto his back, Gwaine promptly changed position, rolling so that he was sprawled into Leon’s chest.
“Oh, wonderful, now if you’re sick it will be all over me.”
“I thought you’d prefer that than getting it on your precious bed. Easier to wash.”
Leon wrinkled his nose. The idea was appallingly disgusting either way. “Do try not to be sick anywhere, please.”
“Believe me, I have every intention of not being sick. Even if might be worth it for the look on your face.”
“You’re an awful person.”
“You like me, really.”
“You’ve hit your head. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“No, I do. You like me, Leon. I think you like me a lot.” As if to confirm his words, Gwaine moved in even closer to Leon, so that there was no longer any space remaining between their bodies.
“Hush,” Leon said.
He failed to move away, though, and he raised one hand to comb through Gwaine’s hair, continuing to stroke it as Gwaine’s breathing evened into sleep.
It hadn’t been the perfect evening Leon had been planning on, but he found he had little cause to complain all the same.
End