Work Text:
Arthur and Merlin were the kind of people that everyone knew of, that everyone had a drunken story about, that everyone had a theory about, but that hardly anyone really knew.
Gwaine transferred into the U of C in second year. His train pulled into Camelot station and Gwaine looked up at the shining white walls that bracketed the auspicious institute of learning, slapped a roguish smile on his face, hitched his bag up his shoulder and sauntered inside.
He had managed to get in on a house share with a couple of second years (God love the internet). It was typical student accommodation with a dodgy boiler and overgrowing back garden, but Gwaine wasn’t there to sample the local architecture.
Elyan and Percy were second years, in Engineering and Sport Science respectively. When he turned up at their door Elyan smiled at him, took his bag and Percy handed him a beer. So Gwaine knew they would be lifelong friends.
“PlayStation or Xbox?” Elyan quizzed, eyeballing Gwaine over the top of his beer bottle.
Gwaine pondered that for a moment, leaning back against the lumpy coach. These initial stages of friendship were important; he couldn’t afford to misstep and answer and then be forced into playing Call of Duty for the next two years. “Xbox” he decided on.
“Boxers of Briefs?” Percy shot.
“Boxer-Briefs.”
“Blondes or Brunettes?”
“Boy or a girl?” Gwaine shot back with a raised eyebrow. Elyan snorted beer out of his nose and Percy just started rolling about laughing.
Oh yeah… Gwaine grinned swigging his beer… definitely mates for life.
“So, you play any sports?” Elyan asked once the street lights were on outside and the beaten sofa was littered with an assortment of beer cans and bottles.
“Yeah…” Gwaine murmured. “This place got a footie team?”
Elyan and Percy exchanged a look before both chuckling.
“Er – Yeah this place has a footie team,” Elyan chuckled giving Gwaine an exasperated look. “Ever heard of the Camelot Knights?”
“Nope,” Gwaine shrugged, “Can’t say I have… Any good?”
The pair shot another look at each other, like Gwaine had just calmly informed them that it had escaped his awareness that the sky was sometimes blue.
“Dude,” Percy scoffed. “Where did you come from?”
Gwaine just grinned. “I’m a mystical gift for the gods.”
Percy gave him a light punch to the arm. “Camelot Knights have won the Albion cup five years in a row!”
“Huh,” Gwaine mused, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “Sounds like fun. Where do I sign up?”
“Sign… You can’t just sign up!” Elyan cried. Gwaine gave the boy a concerned look as his voice reached heights no fully grown man should be able to accomplish with their balls intact. Percival gave Elyan a soothing pat to the back.
“Arthur Pendragon is the Captain this year,” Percy explained, or rather didn’t, as that explained absolutely nothing to Gwaine. Gwaine raised an eyebrow and gestured for more information. “He was Vice last year-“
“First, first year ever to be Vice,” Elyan chimed in, his voice now a much more acceptable level of manliness.
“Yeah. But only ‘cause his Dad like owns half of the Uni,” Percy scoffed. “Anyway he’s in charge of team selection this year and he is making everyone re-try.”
“Sounds fair,” Gwaine mused taking a sip of his beer.
“Yeah but he won’t tell anyone when the trials are,” Percy explained. “I spoke to Lance who spoke to Gwen who heard from Morgana-”
“Arthur’s sister,” Elyan explained.
“-That he’s waiting to see who wants to try out. And only the people that pass his pre-tests will get the chance to try.”
Gwaine frowned and shook his head “The guy knows this is only a Uni footie squad right?”
“The Knights of Cam was like Arthur’s life last year, and now he’s in charge. It is going to be epic.”
“The guy sounds nuts to me mate.”
“Whatever, “ Elyan interrupted. “We heard Arthur was gonna be at the Union tonight, we’re were heading down to see if we can get him to notice us, see if we can get a trial, you in?”
Gwaine looked down at his nearly empty beer and shrugged. “Sure, not got much else planned.”
*
That’s where he saw Merlin that first night.
Gwaine was quietly observing the mottled dance floor, keeping an eye out for anything that tickled his fancy when Elyan sent an excited elbow into his ribs.
“Dude that’s him! It’s him!”
Gwaine looked across the bar for that telltale head of blond hair he had been told to look out for. Eventually he saw who Elyan was excitedly jumping on his toes to see.
The blond man moved through the crowds like Moses parting the water, his head held high, shoulders back, an over-privileged smug look on his face and fire in his eyes. The very look of a leader. Gwaine watched the blond head turn to mutter something to the man behind him.
Through the flashing club lights it was hard to make everything out but everything Gwaine did see prickled interest down his spine. The man was tall, maybe a little taller than Arthur, his shoulders were broad against his checked shirt, and thick black hair artfully ruffled. He stood behind Arthur but his stance held an easy confidence and when Arthur finished muttering to him he grinned.
“Who’s that?” Gwaine asked, leaning forward against the rail in front of him to get a better look.
“That’s Arthur, you dolt,” Elyan scoffed. “You wanna get on the Camelot Knights that’s who you’ve got to impress.”
“No,” Gwaine shook his head, his mind far removed from football and popularity contests now. “I mean the other one.”
Percy tucked his face near Gwaine and squinted out across the room. “Oh, that’s Merlin.”
‘Merlin’ Gwaine muttered in his head. “Who is he?”
“Nobody knows,” Percy stage whispered into his ear
“Oh, come on Perce!”
“He’s Arthur’s roommate,” Percy chuckled. “Got stuck with each other first year and…stuck together ever since. He does some kind of science or med course, I dunno. He wears a white coat, always shut away in the labs.” Percy shot Gwaine a shrewd look. “Why?”
Gwaine looked back out across the dance floor to see Merlin lean against the bar, head tipped back in laughter at whatever Arthur had just said, showing off a long, strong neck. And then, just for a moment, his head came up and across the noise and clamour of the club, Gwaine locked eyes with the bluest eyes he had ever seen. It hit him like a punch in the gut and then it was over and Merlin had turned to order. Gwaine had to swallow before he could speak again.
“…No reason.”
*
“You think we should go over?” Elyan fretted, chewing on his nail. “We should go over, or is it too soon. You think it’s too soon?”
“Whenever you’re ready man,” Percy chuckled. Elyan chewed on his nail a few moments longer.
“No. I think we should go over, come on.” Elyan managed a few confidant steps before stopping. “No, I think it’s too soon, he just got a fresh drink.”
“For God’s sake man,” Gwaine muttered, grabbing Elyan’s arm before the guy could attempt to bolt and pushed through the last barriers of the crowd until he was stood in front of the man himself.
Arthur Pendragon slouched easily back into the cushion of the booth, girls bracketed two deep either side of him. Gwaine felt a dip of disappointment that Merlin wasn’t there, but then Arthur was raising an eyebrow at the trio that had just descended upon his table and Gwaine realised he hadn’t actually said anything yet.
“Alright mate,” he smiled his most charming smile. “We’re interested in the footie team.”
Elyan let out a little squeak beside him but Gwaine just squeezed his arm a fraction tighter to shut him up and let the big boys do the talking.
“Really,” Arthur drawled, tossing his drink back in one mouth full before leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees, sending an assessing look to each of them. “So where were you last year? I don’t remember seeing you at the trials.”
Percy shifted and Elyan murmured something under his breath
“Let me guess,” Arthur smirked. “Too busy living up freshers week to get your arse outta bed to the sign-up tables.”
Percy coughed in agreement and Elyan gave a weak nod. Arthur sent a triumphant look to his posse who quivered about giggling. Gwaine just rolled his eyes.
“What about you Pantene?”
Gwaine blinked back to the present , to find Pendragon’s blue-eyed stare fixed on him. “You talking to me?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow
“Gwaine only joined Camelot this year,” Percy interjected, a slight plead to his tone.
Arthur leant back against his sofa, reluctantly ceding the point. “Alright, so I guess you’ve got an excuse. So you wanna be a Knight?”
“Sure,” Gwaine shrugged. “Why not?”
Gwaine took quite a bit of pleasure from the miniscule amount of shock he saw registered on the blond’s face before it was covered by a scowl. “Why not?” Arthur repeated darkly.
“Yeah,” Gwaine grinned. “Sounds like it could be a laugh.”
Arthur stood abruptly, the surrounding girls letting out little squeaks of surprise. “Please don’t waste my time gentlemen; I have better things to do with my night than deal with time-wasters.”
Downing his drink, Arthur squeezed out of the booth, ignoring the cries of disappointment from his admirers. Gwaine sent him a little grin and a wave before Arthur retreated into the crowd.
Gwaine tried to feel guilty, he really did. But the guy was just so pompous.
He felt smug satisfaction at ruffling the prima donna’s feathers until he turned around and saw Elyan’s crestfallen face and the stoic set to Percy’s jaw. With a sigh he turned, and followed the blond’s footsteps.
Arthur had retreated to the highly original club haunt of the men’s toilet. He was leaning against the sink, dutifully washing his hands when Gwaine let the door swing shut behind him. He scowled at Gwaine’s presence through the mirror but otherwise didn’t move.
“Hey look mate,” Gwaine sighed, agreeing with himself to shelve his pride for a moment for the sake of his new roommates. “I like footie sure, but Elyan and Perce, they’re good guys, least you could do is give ‘em a chance.”
“And why should I?” Arthur asked raising an eyebrow to Gwaine’s reflection. “What evidence has been given that they are committed to this, that they would be committed to the team?”
“If you are looking for a boat load of obsessionaries like you you’ll be searching a while.”
“I don’t even know why I’m talking to you,” Arthur muttered, turning and pushing past Gwaine heading to the door. Gwaine tried a different tactic.
“Or maybe you are just scared that they might actually be good,” he called to the blond’s retreating back. “Actually be better than Arthur Pendragon.”
That got him to stop. Arthur turned slowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. “What did you just say to me?”
“Well, if you make sure the team’s good, but not great, that means you shine all the brighter doesn’t it?”
“I would never – How dare you-“ Arthur’s mouth flipped and flopped like a fish. Gwaine tried very hard to smother his amusement at the sight of Arthur’s tumultuous rage. Eventually Arthur seemed to get a hold of himself. “That’s it, I’m done.”
The door swung shut behind Arthur’s back, shutting out the base beat of the club. Gwaine let himself soak up the unnatural silence of toilets for a moment before deciding he might as well make the most of the visit.
When Gwaine made it back inside the club, Elyan and Perce were already drowning their sorrows in a group fully of scantily clad first year girls. Gwaine sent a grin in their direction and headed to the bar.
He scanned the dance floor to see if he could spot that tousled black hair with no avail. So he retreated to his good old friend, the bar. After a few solitary drinks Gwaine was approached (bumped into) by a delightful Third Year named Elena. Curves in all the right places, just the right amount of curse in her sentence. A few drinks led to a drinking contest. A pretty girl and a challenge – Gwaine couldn’t resist.
Belatedly he realised he might have overestimated his tolerance when Elena leaned him against the Union wall after kicking out and hollered him a farewell.
Gwaine watched the pretty girl and her wonderful curves disappear down the road. He took a step, the pretty girl was getting away, but as soon as he moved away from the support of the cold brick wall against his back the pavement came rushing up to meet him.
“That’s not gonna impress him you know.”
Gwaine rolled his head sideways wincing at the scrape of pavement against his cheek, to see Converse, red, standing in a suspicious puddle. Gwaine grimaced then followed the feet up the legs, and legs and legs, wow, those legs were long…. oh there’s the body. Gwaine gulped when he recognised the shirt and, oh yes - the lips. He got stuck on those for a moment, watching them move up and down, the little pink tongue flicking about within.
He may have whimpered a little.
“Are you listening?” the mouth asked.
“To every word,” Gwaine slurred from his prone position on the ground.
Then the mouth smiled, Gwaine followed the corners up as they pressed against eyes, hey, he knew those eyes – hello, blue eyes.
He may have said that part out loud because the mouth let out a happy bark of laughter, Gwaine liked the sound, he wanted to hear it again, it washed over him like a breeze making the hairs on his neck stand on end, but then the eyes were coming down, closer to him and warm hands grabbed at his shoulders.
“Maybe we should just get you home.”
“Yes please,” Gwaine mumbled, riding the wave of dizziness that came with his now vertical position.
“Whoa. Alright, just don’t throw up on me,” a deep voice rumbled near his ear. Gwaine murmured in response and let his eyes close, letting Blue Eyes guide his feet, hopefully to somewhere flat and soft.
*
When Gwaine came to consciousness, he was laying, still dressed, face down into his pillow, a small puddle of drool collating under his chin.
Gwaine opened his eyes with a groan. His brain seemed to pulse with his heartbeat, slamming it into his skull on every beat. After a quick shuffle he found that at least he was in his own room, and dressed which was a plus. He smacked his lips together trying to get some moisture to his dry mouth. Water. He desperately needed water, and possibly a frontal lobotomy, but he’d try the water first.
He cautiously turned his aching neck to the other side and blinked… and then blinked again.
An old fashioned vial of an oddly green liquid sat on a carefully cleared spot on his bedside table. A scrap of paper propped against it.
Slowly Gwaine pushed himself up to sitting and reached out a shaky hand to the note.
- Drink this. It will help. Trust me. Merlin.
Gwaine smiled at the note, and then looked more cautiously at the green liquid. It looked slightly lumpy and when Gwaine titled the glass vial it congealed thickly on either side. His stomach turned just at the sight and he swallowed thickly. Then he glanced back at the note.
Really, how much worse could he feel?
“Just a milkshake,” he muttered to himself, uncorking the stopper. “Just a Mint Choc milkshake…that smells of cabbage.”
He swigged the whole contents back in one, like the professional he was, knocking it right to the back of his throat and swallowing.
It didn’t taste too bad he mused to himself for a moment. Then his stomach gurgled, and churned.
“Uh oh.”
He just about made it to the toilet before the green liquid made its rapid retreat up his oesophagus along with everything else he had eaten, drunk and consumed in what felt like the last three weeks.
A lifetime later he finished heaving his guts out and slumped heavily against the rim of the toilet, panting.
He lifted his head, wincing in preparation for the thumping in his skull, only to find…nothing.
Gwaine frowned and tilted his head to the other side… still nothing. He smacked his lips, expecting to find the lingering taste of sickness but found that his mouth tasted pleasantly minty fresh as if his teeth had been thoroughly scrubbed.
He let out a bark of surprised laughter, shaking his head back and forth, his hair flying in his face, which surprisingly didn’t feel greasy or smell like beer.
He pulled himself up to the mirror on steady legs and stared at his reflection: no bags beneath the eyes, his skin healthily tanned. He looked and felt even better than he had before he drank a boatload of tequila.
He let out another shout of happy laughter staring at his reflection.
Best hangover cure ever!
On entering the kitchen was evident that Elyan and Percy hadn’t been as equally blessed with their own hangover fairy. Both sat huddled at the rickety kitchen table, mugs of swirling hot tea before them.
“Well, morning lads!” he grinned shoving a handful of bread in the toaster and hopping up onto the counter.
“Shut up.” “Shut it Gwaine!” they both mumbled pathetically into their mugs.
“How are you not dying?” Elyan whispered hoarsely in Gwaine’s direction once the toaster had popped.
“Maybe I can just handle my drink better than you two amateurs,” Gwaine replied, applying a liberal amount of butter to each slice.
Percy didn’t respond exactly but wilted to the table with a pathetic groan, resting his forehead against wood.
Then when the door let out a loud bang he groaned again. Gwaine grinned and gave the man a sympathetic pat to the back on his way past. But when he opened the door there was no one there. Gwaine frowned and looked up the street and back down again, shrugged and was about to go back inside when two little white envelopes on the door mat caught his eye.
“Who was it?” Elyan mumbled when Gwaine returned to his toast.
“Here you go boys.” Grinning, Gwaine tossed the deliveries to the table, each envelope coming to a sliding stop on the table before its recipient.
Elyan and Percy exchanged a look but then cautiously opened them. Gwaine just watched with a grin and a mouthful of buttery toast.
“No way!” Percy yipped, jumping from chair with a grin.
“Oh my god,” Elyan murmured faintly, sinking back to his chair, with suspiciously bright eyes.
“No way!” Percy shouted again, his previous hangover forgotten as he read and then re-read the letter. “Try outs! We got invited to the try outs!”
“This afternoon,” Elyan muttered shakily, his face paling. “I think I am going to be sick.”
“You should. It will make you feel better,” Gwaine advised.
“Wait,” Percy stopped manically bouncing around the kitchen like a five-year-old hyped on Christmas for one moment, to give Gwaine a sad look. “Where’s your envelope?”
“No pressies for me this morning I’m afraid Perce. But I have no problem admitting that I have been a very bad boy,” Gwaine winked but Percy continued to stare at Gwaine like someone had kicked his favourite puppy. “Oh don’t look so glum Percival. I’ll come along, sit back with a beer and watch you two schmucks get bossed around the pitch by the Great Dictator.”
“God, don’t mention beer,” Elyan groaned into the little nest ha had made with his arms and letter.
“Hair of the Dog,” Gwaine announced joyfully.
All the remaining colour promptly left Elyan’s face and he exited the kitchen in a flash. Gwaine and Percy exchanged winces when the sounds of retching filled the small house.
Elyan finally left the bathroom sometime just before lunch and managed to shower and dress himself. Once he had his boots in hand, walking through the fresh crisp air of Camelot town towards the football grounds, he seemed to perk up a bit.
The trio marched through the gates to the long green training grounds bracketed on all sides with low white posts, low rise empty bleachers on one side.
There was a huddle to the side of the pitch and Elyan and Percival immediately broke off with a jaunty wave in Gwaine’s direction. But Gwaine was too busy walking towards the figure he had spotted as soon as they walked through the gates, the main reason he had bothered to come all the way down here.
But his aim was cut just short when he was confronted with a scowling Pendragon
“These are supposed to be secret trials,” Arthur grouched.
Gwaine looked over Arthur’s shoulder to where Merlin was leaning against the white posts around the pitch, not so secretly and amusedly watching. “Merlin’s here,” he pointed out.
Arthur stared over his shoulder to the man in question. Merlin just smiled back before shrugging. “He’s right, I am here.”
“Fine,” Arthur huffed, turning back to Gwaine. “Be quiet and stay out of the way.”
Gwaine smirked and took up a relaxed slouch against the pitch barriers, leaning his elbows against the white metal. The boys all donned their boots and Arthur gave a sharp toot on the whistle directing them running up and down the field. Elyan was already starting to look sick.
“That was some cure you gave me,” Gwaine mused, giving Merlin a sideways glance. The man’s lips twitched but he kept his focus out on the field.
“So you feel alright?”
“After puking out my innards, yeah.”
“Ahh,” the man replied dryly. “Perhaps I should have listed the side effects on the bottle.”
Gwaine snorted in agreement but let his focus go back to the players on the pitch. There was no doubt that Arthur had skill. He weaved through the players with the grace of a dancer, tackled with the tenacity of a boar and shot at goal with needle-point precision. But it didn’t make Gwaine like the pompous twat any better.
“So, what’s with Your Highness?” he asked shooting Merlin a look, nodding at the pitch where the blond was giving Percy a lecture about focus and some other such drivel.
“There were troubles last year,” Merlin spoke with a shrug, “within the team. Arthur wanted to do things differently this year.”
“They still won didn’t they?”
“Apparently there is a difference between winning and ‘winning with honour.” Gwaine gave Merlin the eyebrow. “I dunno….” Merlin scoffed, looking back to the field. “It’s important to Arthur.”
At the finality of Merlin’s tone Gwaine just nodded and turned his focus going back to the field. But he could still feel the warmth from Merlin's body at his side, was overly aware of every move the brunet took but Merlin seemed to be paying no more attention to him. Gwaine could take it…he could play it cool. He clicked his neck and stared, perhaps too intently, at Percival who was about to save a penalty. Feeling Gwaine’s eyes on him Percy glanced up for one second to give Gwaine a confused frown and then the striker kicked, and the ball flew right past Percy’s outstretched hand.
Percy looked at the scored ball and then back at Gwaine with a scowl before his attention was taken by a growling Pendragon. Gwaine grimaced with guilt, for only knowing these guys a few days he certainly wasn’t making their life easier.
Feeling eyes on himself he turned to see Merlin trying to stifle a broad grin and failing.. Gwaine shrugged. “What, he’s going to have to have better focus than that on the pitch. Arthur should be thanking me.”
Merlin chuckled, smiling at Gwaine wickedly from under his thick lashes. It flipped something hot and burning in Gwaine stomach, letting it sizzle and glow, it wasn’t an entirely comfortable feeling. Gwaine took in a steadying breath and turned back to the pitch. He didn’t mind the silence much after that.
*
After an innumerable amount of jumping jacks and reflex tests Arthur blew the final whistle of the try outs and brought the group together. He must have been giving out his decisions because there were a yelps of joy and a few slumped shoulders of defeat.
“Arthur likes to make gut decisions,” Merlin supplied from where his heat was still burning a hole through Gwaine’s jacket.
“Uh.” Gwaine had to admire that and watched with a smile as Percival and Elyan both grinned widely once Arthur had finished talking to them, and gave him a thumbs up. Gwaine responded in kind along with a sign to hit the pub. He wasn’t really serious he just wanted to see all the colour drain from Elyan’s face again.
Chuckling to himself Gwaine turned to see a stormy-faced man he recognised as a striker stomp off the pitch, obviously in displeasure.
Gwaine remembered him from the practice - Valiant. He had been alright on the ball, had a lethal right foot and could get massive power behind it but he hadn’t been all that graceful, and there had definitely been better players out there today, especially after he went in to tackle Arthur, missed the ball and the Captain’s ankles and ended up with his face in the dirt.
The man’s eyes twitched, catching movement from the corner of his eyes and slowly focussed his flaming eyes on Gwaine… no wait, not Gwaine – Merlin.
Valiant took a stride forward quickly; his hands fisted at his side and came to an aborted stop right in Merlin’s face. Gwaine had stiffened with every one of Valiant’s footsteps, but Merlin still leant languidly against the posts staring blandly at the spitting man.
“Stupid Daddy’s boy thinks he can dump me?!” Valiant hissed at Merlin. Gwaine looked apprehensively between the two, just waiting for his cue to step in, but Merlin didn’t look too fazed.
“Valiant, you didn’t make the team because you are a scamming cheat and not a good enough player to overlook that.” Merlin rolled his eyes and turned to leave, turning his back on the enraged player.
“It was you,” Valiant seethed, staring at Merlin’s back. “You little freak! You did something!”
For all of Valiant's bumbling footwork, he was fast when he wanted to be. Gwaine watched with horror as he grabbed Merlin’s shoulders and shoved him hard against the wooden bleachers. A little noise escaped Merlin’s mouth along with the air from his lungs, a small pained sound that jarred something deep in Gwaine’s chest.
“Oi!” he had called out before really registering that he was about to act.
Valiant turned his sneering face away from his victim towards Gwaine’s advancing enraged one which seemed to be a mistake, because Merlin shifted. Gwaine, whose eyes were fixed on his target missed what he did but Valiant yelped in pain and jumped away. Gwaine didn’t miss a beat and swung a fist, hitting Valiant squarely on the jaw.
The man dropped like a sack of potatoes and hit the ground with a sickening crunch. Gwaine winced in sympathy but quickly stepped over the felled body to reach Merlin. He was standing rather steadily, but rubbing at his wrists. Gwaine felt a resurgence of rage when he saw the red grip marks on both thin wrists.
Gwaine reached out a hand, carefully taking the wrists in his hands, running a soothing thumb over the red marks, as if his touch could erase them.
“Merlin!” Arthur’s shocked cry startled Gwaine from where he was absently stroking Merlin’s skin and standing very close. Merlin shot Gwaine a small look before giving Arthur a large grin.
“Arthur!”
“What-“ Arthur stumbled, eyes flicking between the still unconscious Valiant, Gwaine and Merlin. “What the hell?”
“It seems we can add sore loser to Valiant's faults,” Merlin shrugged stepping over the fallen man to Arthur’s side.
Arthur’s eyes zeroed in on the redness around Merlin’s wrists and his eyes widened with rage. “Did he do this?” he hissed grabbing one of the wrists roughly. Merlin winced and batted Arthur away.
“Yes but I’m fine… Gwaine saved me.”
Arthur frowned in Gwaine’s direction, sending him an incredulous eyebrow. “Gwaine saved you?”
“Yes. He did. You know, some people can grow on you if you give them a second chance,” Merlin spoke pointedly, giving Arthur a hard look.
Arthur returned the look, staring straight into Merlin’s eyes. Gwaine looked back and forth between them, seemingly in a wordless conversation. Then Merlin raised an eyebrow and Arthur’s shoulders sunk in defat.
“Fine,” he muttered, sending Gwaine a harsh look as if it were all his fault. “Bring your boots tomorrow Gwaine. You can have a trial. Only a trial!” he confirmed, giving Merlin a stare. “And if he’s shit, I am blaming you.”
Merlin didn’t seem deterred and just grinned at Arthur until the blond huffed and stormed back to the changing rooms.
Gwaine was too shocked to speak for a moment. “Why would you do that?” he choked back the ‘for me’ he wanted to add to the end.
At Merlin’s soft gaze he suspected Merlin heard it anyway. “Do you want to sit on the side-lines with me all season or do you want to play?”
Merlin gave Gwaine a cheeky smirk and a wink. And Gwaine almost replied ‘sit with you’ But then Merlin had twirled and was shouting “See you tomorrow Gwaine” over his shoulder before disappearing through the gates.
*
When Gwaine stepped out onto the field the next day he realised how much he had missed playing. Maybe not the diabolical tenacity that Arthur was expecting but the rush of wind in his hair as he outpaced the defenders, the singular focus on this ball of white leather, the camaraderie of a goal scored, even if it was just in practice.
After practice concluded, he hobbled off the training grounds towards the stands, feeling a bit sore but grinning like a fool. He lowered himself to the bleachers with a sigh and pulled at his laces. In the three months his boots had gotten testy and had decided to show their displeasure at their neglect by squishing Gwaine toes to a pulp.
“Good practice?”
Gwaine didn’t need to turn to recognise the voice. He let a small smile escape onto his lips as he tugged off the first boot and cracked his toes.
“As well as can be expected I suppose.”
“Arthur can be a bit of a driver,” Merlin agreed coming to sit next to Gwaine, their shoulders brushing. “Excellence has always been expected of him, so he demands it from others.”
Gwaine hummed in vague agreement. To be honest he didn’t really care. “So aren’t you going to get a bollocking for being late?”
Merlin chuckled. “You know I am not actually required to be here. I had a lab.”
“So you just come for my scintillating company, or to watch all the boys run around in their shorts?”
“Can’t it be both?” he shrugged. Merlin turned then, his hypnotic eyes capturing Gwaine’s attention exclusively. He felt it again, the fizzle and sizzle of something unknown creeping up his back, the feeling that half made you want to arch away and half lean back into it. As Gwaine tried not to squirm in his seat, the blue eyes twinkled with mirth and something knowing, showing intelligence and something powerful, hidden.
“Merlin!”
Merlin broke from Gwaine’s stare and Gwaine used the moment to release a deep shuddering breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. “Yes Arthur?” Merlin shouted in exasperation, not moving his head any further around to the captain than a very dismissive tilt, staring somewhere in the vicinity of Gwaine's right ear.
There was a beat of silence and Merlin raised an eyebrow in waiting.
“… Did you get the milk?”
“No.” Merlin sighed. “I will get it later. Anything else Arthur?”
Gwaine shifted his eyes to the right slightly to see Arthur stood shiftily at the bottom of the bleachers, eyes darting back and forth between Gwaine and Merlin. In the end his shoulders slumped slightly his face frowning in annoyance. “No.” he replied sullenly, almost a growl. Gwaine had to curb his response to grin at Arthur’s childish reaction and successfully pursed his lips. “Just… don’t take too long. Gwaine needs to be in the dressing room.”
Gwaine watched Arthur’s retreating back then turned back to Merlin who was staring at him, with an expectant look. And Gwaine’s brain suddenly stumbled. He knew what he would do normally when faced with a scrumptious creature that he really wanted to devour, he wouldn’t think twice. But Merlin… there was something about Merlin, something undefined and scary, something that made Gwaine feel hot and chilled at the same time. Something that made Gwaine admit he was dealing with a different kind of creature all together.
So he grinned and moved back a little. Merlin’s face creased into a small frown at the distance but Gwaine gave him a slow smile.
“I should go, the princess is calling.”
“Alright,” Merlin answered a little confused.
“You gonna to be here tomorrow?” Gwaine asked, letting his nervousness into his tone a little.
“Maybe,” Merlin’s face began to lose his frown as he considered Gwaine. “Will you be wearing shorts?”
Gwaine let his head fall back into a hearty laugh. When he looked back Merlin was grinning that devilishly sinful grin that made Gwaine want to devour it right there. “There will be a whole field of men for you to ogle.”
“Hum…” Merlin hummed giving Gwaine an obvious up-and-down that made Gwaine’s brain prickle. “Maybe I could be persuaded.”
The hot sizzle start creeping up Gwaine’s back again. “Right,” he choked taking a step back, stumbling when he misplaced his step. For the first time in years Gwaine felt the tickle of a blush against his cheeks as he looked back up to see Merlin pursing his lips in an obvious attempt to keep back a laugh.
“Take care,” Merlin chortled giving Gwaine a wave, leaning back casually against the bleachers, stretching out his long body like a feast.
Gwaine turned trying to steady his erratic breathing and threw a wave over his shoulder. When he was safely seconded in his shower cubical he allowed his sopping head to fall against the tiles in despair.
What the hell had happened to him? Gwaine was suave, he was charming. He did not stumble, he did not blush and blue eyes did not make his heart flutter like a harmless rabbit’s. He was the predator not the prey…
But then the memory of a wicked grin and sparkling blue eyes invaded his head, filling his whole brain so abruptly he had to blink and staggered against the cubical wall. He shook his head firmly, clearing his vision. He was just tired…very over-tired he mused to himself as he began to vigorously scrub at his skin.
Either that or he had lost his mind.
*
Contrary to Gwaine’s quite fervent wishes, University actually did include some lectures. Gwaine spent the majority of Monday and Tuesday flitting between the lecture halls, the library and the house blearily passing Elyan and Percy in the early mornings or evenings when they all piled onto the sofa with a can.
But in between and laced through all the day-to-day minutia of university life, a hook had latched into the back of his mind, one that was tall and slim and had pale skin that was just made to be nibbled at. Gwaine found himself drifting off in lectures wondering what shade of red the skin would turn with beard burn, what pressure on the hips would leave marks.
It was confusing and frustrating and annoying and was driving Gwaine out of his mind.
On Tuesday night Gwaine took himself out, propped himself at the bar and proved to himself that he still had it. After a few short minutes of charming grins and playful come-ons he had the giggling girl basically worshipping at his feet. Her eyes wide and black rimmed staring at him hopefully, wordlessly begging him to take her home now and have his wicked way.
So he did, he was a gentleman at least and they both had a wonderful time. Then in the morning he made her coffee and toast and let her kiss him goodbye. There was no exchange of numbers and when Percy wolf whistled at him when the door had shut and asked who the bombshell had been, he couldn’t even remember her name.
But she had served her purpose. When Wednesday rolled around he was still sporting a quite impressive love bite on between his shoulder and neck and a new spring in his step. The night’s weren’t totally dark yet but the flood lights left long shadows on the pitch as they darted about in the early night fog as the team ran back and forth across the damp turf.
He felt Merlin’s presence before he saw him, a gentle tug at the side of his consciousness. Turning, Gwaine spotted the brunet, in a thick coat and scarf, standing to the side of the pitch, a white steaming takeaway cup in his hands.
Practice went on for a few more minutes until Arthur blew the whistle. It was an odd arrangement within the squad, the coach trying to order the troops around for a while before Arthur gave the man a glare and took his whistle, suggesting as condescendingly as possible that he go have a rest in the coach’s bench.
But the whistle was blown and Gwaine was free to go. His feet seemed to move free of his mind and broke away from the stream of men funnelling into the changing room doors, taking him off to the side where a flood light illuminated Merlin’s spot.
“Hello Gwaine,” Merlin grinned, turning his body to face Gwaine’s advancing figure. “You looked good out there tonight.”
“My shorts or my skills?” Gwaine beamed back coming to stand a little closer to Merlin’s warm body than was socially acceptable, his previous hesitancies forgotten and his heart still beat like a jackrabbit and his neck still sizzled but it didn’t seem to matter; like Gwaine was a fluttering moth to Merlin’s enigmatic flame.
Merlin chuckled, shaking his head and taking a sip of his hot drink. “I can tell you, from behind enemy lines, that Arthur has been impressed. He may have mentioned that he would be starting you next Wednesday.”
Gwaine tried to suppress the glow of pride he felt at the statement but couldn’t quite smother down his pleased smile. “Well,” he coughed. “The man obviously knows talent when he sees it.”
“So I hope you remember me,” Merlin said his body canting forward, “when you are a big shot footie star around campus. Remember the little men that helped you get there.”
“Oh I’m sure I can find some time for the fans,” Gwaine took a step forward until they were breathing in each other’s air. “Sign some autographs and pose for pictures and the like.”
Merlin smiled devilishly and opened his mouth to respond but closed it, his eyebrow raising and cocked his head to the side, staring at something past Gwaine’s chin. Gwaine first thought was that Arthur ‘cockblocker’ Pendragon was about again but then Merlin reached out cold fingers and brushed them against Gwaine’s neck.
“I see someone’s been tasting the university delicacy.”
Gwaine’s hand flew to the spot on his neck, where his shoulder joined now visible underneath the collar of his training shirt. Inexplicably the hickey, which had been a symbol of his prowess, a source for his confidence suddenly made guilt flood into his gut.
“I… er-“ he stuttered but Merlin just grinned. The man didn’t look upset or disappointed, but he stepped back, a rush of cold air filling the space where Merlin’s body had been previously.
His hand was still stroking back and forth across the mark, that cool touch igniting more shivers down Gwaine’s back than the mouth that had formed it. “Hum,” Merlin hummed pressing a final thumb into the mark before pulling away. “You should be careful with those, sometimes they bite.”
Gwaine could only swallow in response and then Merlin was winking and backing away, disappearing into the shadows around the pitch. Gwaine lifted a hand to the spot in his neck where Merlin’s touch had lingered, the mark now feeling more like it belonged to Merlin than the nameless girl who made it.
When he looked in the steamed mirror of the changing rooms later, almost nearly empty, he saw the reason for that. The round purple bruise that had been on his neck was still there, but its edges had faded in an odd formation. Gwaine frowned and leaned across the sink for a closer look, wiping the condensation from the mirror. The bruise had taken on a shape that looked suspiciously like an M.
*
When Gwaine woke the next day, the mark was still there. Gwaine frowned at his reflection in the cracked mirror of the bathroom and grabbed his collared t-shirt and scarf from his still half packed bag.
On Friday Gwaine was running late for his morning seminar and didn’t even have time to tame his wild hair before he threw himself over the threshold to the classroom. That had earned him a stern look from the professor whose eyebrows had then raised even further upward and made a comment about how ‘night time activities are fine and dandy but should not interfere with the purpose of further education: learning’.
Gwaine had found the comment strange but had apologetically taken the remaining seat beside the window. However the comment was no longer confusing when he caught sight of his reflection in the window; his hair pulled back into a rare ponytail, his ‘Jam’ t-shirt he’d had since he was sixteen stretched tight over his chest all working together to spectacularly showcase the ‘M’ like bruise still ever present on his neck.
It perplexed Gwaine who had had his fair share of love bites in various interesting locations. First of all the shape and perhaps more importantly the inexplicable change in shape was weird, but the human body did all type of weird things. His mate in sixth form had a birth mark shaped exactly like a hand print on his arse. But in all his previous expertise he had never had one that lasted as long without even a fraction of fading.
Gwaine cheered himself up that afternoon by treating himself to lunch in the Uni canteen and flirting with the checkout girl. She had grinned and twirled her hair around her finger and he got a free muffin--all around a pleasant experience for all.
But Gwaine’s good mood lasted until he looked in the mirror at the house, applying a liberal amount of Jean Paul to his skin, he let the scent settle and peered intently at his reflection and felt his eyes narrow in disbelief. The mark was still there, he had been expecting no less; but instead of fading as the laws of biology would suggest the mark had gotten darker, deeper, and there was no more mistaking the ‘M’ branded across his skin for all to see.
*
The King’s Head was packed. Gwaine had been knowledgably informed by both Elyan, Percival and the curly haired girl from his tutor group that it would be; first Quiz night of the year.
But as crowded and loud as the pub was Gwaine’s eyes zeroed in on the tall figure as soon as the doors had swing shut behind them.
Merlin was chatting amicably with a tanned man at the bar, leaning his head slightly down to catch the man’s words over the din of conversation. Gwaine stared at him openly across the bar, letting Percival and his bulk take charge of the first round.
Merlin didn’t move his head from where his ear was canted towards his drinking partner but his eyes slowly gravitated upwards, across the crowds and landed on Gwaine. Gwaine narrowed his eyes and let the cogs in his brain whir gently around slotting pieces of information and facts into their allotted place.
Merlin, as usual, didn’t seem disturbed by Gwaine’s less than enthusiastic acknowledgment. Instead he looked painfully amused and raised his pint glass in mock toast. Gwaine could only frown harder and scanned his eyes around for safe passage over but when he looked back up Merlin was gone, his empty pint glass sat wobbling on the bar.
It wasn’t until after the first round of the Quiz that Gwaine spotted him again, slipping neatly out of the back fire door into the darkened gardens.
So of course Gwaine followed.
The gardens of the King’s Head were littered with picnic benches across the green lawn. One umbrella was erected by the back door and the few smokers brave enough and desperate enough to brave the brisk night air were curled underneath it, and more importantly; around the small electric heater placed underneath it.
But the object of Gwaine’s quest could be seen off to the side, in the light but shadowed, strong set but fey looking. Merlin was a confusing mix of metaphors and Gwaine was tired of being confused.
“What the hell did you do?” Gwaine asked lowly as he approached the figure leant against the beer shed.
Merlin, the devil, smiled at Gwaine from under his eyelashes. “I have no idea what you mean?”
“I mean this,” Gwaine growled, braving the chilly breeze to expose his neck. He blamed it on played it off to the cold night air when he shivered as Merlin’s fingers pressed lightly to the marked skin.
“I thought you liked being marked?” he shrugged, pulling his hand away slowly
Gwaine shook of the fizzling shiver still trying to overcome his body and glared back. “It hasn’t faded.”
“Hum,” Merlin murmured, smirking slightly into the night. “Funny that.”
“No, it’s not bloody funny.”
“You sure?” Merlin grinned. Gwaine made the mistake then of looking directly into the man’s eyes, his very blue, blue eyes. He could feel himself being drawn further into their icy depths and by the time he blinked back to himself Merlin was still grinning at him, but stood five yards away and then disappearing back into the pub.
Gwaine blinked again, and then once more, hurrying back inside. He cast his eyes around the space; the majority of the students sat now to start the next round, but could find no trace of a raven head, as if he had disappeared into thin air.
When Gwaine woke up the next morning, his neck suspiciously bare of any marks, he knew some really weird shit was going on.
*
Gwaine rolled up to practice on Sunday with a tirade and demanding speech ready to impart.
But Merlin wasn’t there. Gwaine clenched his jaw in frustration and kicked the ball that little bit harder earning a wide eyed glare from Percival when he had to save his attempts on goal.
So Gwaine saved his tirade, and stored his annoyance, and added a few more fantastic lines to the speech before Wednesday…but the white posts stayed annoyingly bare. His frustration mounted, but it wasn’t until he found himself lurking suspiciously outside the lab rooms Thursday morning did he realise his small odd crush on the odd very frustrating science nerd had reached stalking stage. He immediately texted Percival and Elyan for a lunch time lash.
When Wednesday match day finally rolled around the Elyan, Percy and Gwaine booted and suited in the dressing rooms none truly suppressing their excited grins. Mercia vs. Camelot, first match of the season and they were all starting.
The team spilled out onto the pitch, all riled up from Arthur’s pep speech, jumping, jogging, and dodging across the pitch in their pre-game warm-up show. Gwaine ignored the hoots and calls of the crowd, got his head in the game, put his head down and got stuck in.
Camelot was doing well, they were tight, alert and constantly on Mercia’s backs. The score remained a very narrow 2-1 to Camelot at half time. Gwaine could feel the frustrations of the Mercian mid-fielder he was tailing radiating off the man in waves. And it seemed that whatever was said in the Mercian dressing room at half time had done nothing to temper Gilli’s anger.
The narrowed eyes that met him as Gwaine jogged into position before the whistle just made Gwaine grin and give the boy a playful wink. Gilli then let out a sound akin to a baby bear growl and then play began again.
Percival had just punch-saved a very lucky Mercian corner and the field began to run the length of the pitch, all trying to keep up with the ball. Somehow it ended on the end of Gwaine’s boot and he surged forward, to the hardly defended Mercian goal. He could see the goalie jumping on his toes, almost smell the anxious sweat forming on his top lip.Gwaine could feel the dogged presence of Gilli storming along beside him, his elbow pushing into Gwaine’s ribs as he tried to get a foot, a knee, anything to the ball and veer Gwaine off course.
But Gwaine’s course was set; he fixed his eyes to the net and swung his right foot back.
And then Gilli’s foot made contact, not with his right foot just about to make contact with the leather ball. But to his left ankle, his stationary leg, his only pillar.
Then Gwaine was going down, and he was going down hard. He could already feel the jar of his knee to the ground, desperately trying to right the angle of his leg before he landed, but it was no use, he could feel the earth pulling him down, and down. He winced and braced himself for impact.
And then the sizzle… the familiar fizzle and burn down the back of his neck was there, scorching across his skin but strong and more intense, more urgent than anything he had felt before. It rushed like a wave across his body. Just for a fraction Gwaine managed to lift his eyes and just about managed to catch a glimpse of the brightest gold he had ever seen, and hauntingly beautiful rustic colour that swirled and danced.
And then Gwaine blinked… and blinked again. He blinked over the field from where he sat neatly on his arse in the wet grass. Gwaine blinked at the intact ankle at the bottom of his leg and then at Gilli sprawled out on the turf a few inches away, looking hacked off and shocked as Elyan sailed the ball past the goalie’s head.
The next time Gwaine blinked Elyan was pouncing on him in celebration, the rest of the team piling in for the huddle and then the final whistle blew, 3-1 to Camelot: their first match and first victory of the season.
But Gwaine was detached from that; he stood shakily from the ground, tentatively bouncing on his limb and feeling no pain, not even the burn of over exerted muscles.
Gwaine looked over to see Arthur shaking the ref’s hand, expecting to see at least a glimpse of jubilation on the blond’s face, and definitely a hint of smugness but the man wasn’t even listening to the referee sing his team’s praises, instead he was scowling menacingly across to the crowd. Gwaine followed his eyesight just in time to see a black head of hair disappear down the sides of the bleachers.
Gwaine got caught up in the obligatory field celebrations for a while before he managed to break off, his feet following the path set out before him around the side of the bleachers, his brain a confused jumble of different facts, none seeming to fall into place.
“Merlin you need to be more careful!” Gwaine heard growled from the alley behind the umpires hut.
“It’s fine Arthur.” Gwaine heard Merlin’s voice sigh.
“No,” Arthur growled. Gwaine rounded the corner now to see Merlin leant against the rough brick wall, Arthur hovering closely in front. “No, it’s not bloody ‘fine’ Merlin! Anyone could have seen that! I did, and you sure as hell know that-“
Gwaine chose that moment to cut in, clearing his throat purposefully at the mouth of the alley. Arthur snapped his eyes around, immediately zeroing in on Gwaine. He looked back and forth from Merlin leaning cross armed against the wall and Gwaine standing languidly ahead.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Arthur spoke after a moment deliberation, pausing to shoot Gwaine a hard look before disappearing from sight. Silence hung between them, heavy and weighted for the first time. Merlin’s stance looked uncaring, even a little sullen but Gwaine could see where his hands were clenched against the fabric of his jacket, and he could see the man’s Adam’s apple bobbing with every heavy swallow.
“What was that?” Gwaine asked eventually.
“What was what,” Merlin shrugged.
“Don’t Merlin,” Gwaine grit out coming closer into the alley. “I know it was something, if it was nothing what Arthur talking about?”
“I left the door to the flat unlocked again,” Merlin responded scuffing his feet a little against the floor.
“No,” Gwaine mused. “You didn’t. Come on, you can trust me. What did you do out on the pitch today?” Merlin swallowed again but didn’t look at Gwaine and Gwaine couldn’t stand that. “I felt it,” he spoke softly moving in closer until he could feel Merlin’s heat. “It felt like nothing I’d ever felt before.”
Merlin swallowed once more, his eyes finally flicking up tentatively to Gwaine’s. “What did it feel like?”
“It… it felt like,” Gwaine unconsciously licked his lips trying to describe the acute sensations, “like fire? And water and wind, all at the same time. I thought I was going down and then I just,” Gwaine chuckled shrugging, “didn’t.”
Merlin’s eyes had skidded down again, his full pink lips caught nervously between white teeth. This was Merlin looking nervous, it was not a sight Gwaine had come to associate with the strange little man that had irrevocably caught his attention and gaze from the very first day on campus.
“What was it Merlin?” Gwaine whispered giving into the urge and placing his hand’s lightly on Merlin’s trim waist. “You can tell me.”
MerIin looked up and then down and then up again, his blue eyes glistening slightly from under thick black lashes making Gwaine’s stomach twirl in a very pleasant way. “I can… do things?” he shrugged eventually.
“Things?”
“Things,” Merlin glared with a slight hysterical edge to his voice, “like make the world’s worst hangover disappear, like make love bites inflicted by hussies change shape-”
Gwaine grinned at the petulant tone Merlin developed at the end. But shook his head. “That doesn’t explain anything to me.”
“You’re being thick,” Merlin pouted.
“Sorry,” Gwaine shrugged unapologetically with a smirk. “Not all of us are science nerds. Explain better.”
Merlin huffed a very-put-upon sigh and wiggled his gloved hand up in-between the small gap between their two bodies holding it out between them.
“I dunno. I’ve just always been able to… do things.” Without a word Merlin’s eyes turned gold, that swirling rustic gold Gwaine had seen on the pitch. Gwaine blinked and then looked down to Merlin’s hand between them, hovering above the gloved hand was a orb, a swirling blue completely impossible orb. Gwaine looked at it wide-eyed and open mouthed and then back up at Merlin.
“That is,” he whispered to Merlin’s face which was contorted as if awaiting a blow, “brilliant!”
Merlin looked up at him and blinked, and then blinked again. “What?”
“Ha!” Gwaine barked out a laugh. “So…you jumped in to save me. Am I your damsel?” Gwaine leered, pressing even closer to Merlin’s body. Now it was Merlin that looked like a startled rabbit, his eyes confused as Gwaine leaned in closer. “Is it my luscious locks? Or my strapping thighs?” Gwaine breathed and sobered for a moment, feeling Merlin’s thin frame pressed tightly up against his and thought about what he had just seen. “Merlin, why would you do that? Anyone could have seen…you need to be careful. …“
“Because I won’t sit back and watch you be hurt if I can do something about it!” Merlin interrupted his eyes sparking with passion.
Gwaine smile softened into something fonder and he drew right up against Merlin body, his strong arms circling the man’s waist. Merlin still glared at him defiantly but didn’t pull away which was all the indication the Gwaine needed.
“So,” he whispered softly, his lips almost brushing Merlin’s, “I am your damsel.”
Merlin’s laugh sounded like it had been forced out of the man’s throat involuntarily but then Gwaine watched up close as the crinkles formed around Merlin’s eyes as he began to smile. “God,” he groaned, his forehead falling forward onto Gwaine’s. “Arthur is going to be very mad at me.”
“You know he’s probably hiding around the corner watching us,” Gwaine replied trying to shift closer to Merlin’s body. It wasn’t possible, so all that happened was that they swayed together for a moment before settling. It perhaps should have been strange, slightly odd that Gwaine was stood so close to a man he hadn’t even kissed yet, quite comfortable with his arms around him nestled into each other’s space just sharing heat.
It maybe should have felt strange, but it didn’t. The odd fizzling that Gwaine always felt in Merlin’s presence now tingled and caressed over his skin, feeling like a third hand cocooning him in an embrace.
And then Merlin grinned, that same, devilish, wicked grin Gwaine recognised and leaned in closer to Gwaine. “Well perhaps we should give him something good to watch.”
Gwaine was only too happy to oblige.
*
“Merlin!” Arthur groaned. Gwaine blinked up from his perusal of Merlin's tongue and looked over the back of the sofa to see Arthur standing in the hall, a hand slapped over his eyes. “What have I told you about making out on the sofa?”
Gwaine looked back at Merlin below him, his pale cheeks flushed just the way Gwaine loved. Merlin smiled up at Gwaine and Gwaine couldn’t help but swoop back down for another taste of his lips, Arthur’s presence be damned.
“Merlin!” Arthur growled. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Sorry,” Merlin muttered between sloppy pecks to Gwaine stubbled jaw, his teeth grazing the skin making Gwaine’s spine tighten with lust. “Did you say something?”
Arthur growled again, something unintelligible about ‘the worst roommate ever’. Gwaine just grinned and bared his neck, allowing Merlin further exploration. He lost himself in the feeling of lips on his sensitive skin for a moment, every touch and sensation intensified by the hover of Merlin’s magic over each inch of his skin.
It wasn’t until Merlin reached for his fly that Gwaine looked back up to where Arthur had stood what seemed like a moment ago to find the apartment empty. “Where did he go?” he mumbled, his breath hitching when Merlin got a skilled hand through the folds of his boxers and around his throbbing cock.
“Dunno.” Merlin mumbled against his neck before languidly pulling Gwaine’s prick free from the folds of his clothes, giving it a squeeze. “Now I want you focused, Gwaine!” Merlin growled in a mock low voice. “You are never going to score with your head in the clouds.”
Gwaine looked down upon Merlin with wide eyes for a moment. “Don’t ever imitate Arthur when you have my cock in your hand again.” He mock shuddered. “Ever.
Merlin just grinned pulling a tight fist up and down Gwaine’s erection making him shiver. “Come on now Sir Gwaine, I need your best performance today!”
Gwaine rolled his eyes, and decided the best way to shut the man up was to otherwise occupy his lips. Merlin seemed to be on board with his plan and arched up into Gwaine body as their lips locked together.
Things progressed quickly and soon Gwaine was gagging for a condom and some lube. He reluctantly pulled away to grab supplies only to see Merlin’s gorgeous eyes flaring gold beneath him and a silver packet and a tube of Durex’s finest hovering near his head.
Gwaine barked out a laugh and leaned down to kiss Merlin thoroughly.
“You’re amazing you know?”
Merlin just grinned up at him and let his legs fall open before Gwaine, his eyes still flaring gold. “Yeah,” he grinned, hooking an impatient ankle round Gwaine back. “I know.”
Gwaine relished in the powerful burn of Merlin’s aroused magic and fell back down on top the man below him, he had enough experience to know what happened when you made Merlin wait.
THE END