Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gwaine hates mornings.

He's tired as hell, his head is banging, he forgot to shut the blinds before he poured himself into bed last night so the sun is trying very hard to scorch his eyes out, and the damn alarm on his phone just won't shut up.

Eyes closed, he scrabbles around the bed trying to locate the wretched thing. He finds it, but only by knocking it to the floor where it lands with an alarmingly loud thud, still shrieking at him to wake up.

“Fuck,” Gwaine mutters, almost falling out of bed as he picks it up. He says it again, considerably louder, when he sees the web of cracks his phone screen has become. “Fuck!”

This is all Merlin’s fault. If he wasn't so utterly gorgeous, Gwaine wouldn't have bought half as many beers from him last night.

X

A long, hot shower and an enormous cup of coffee later, Gwaine’s hangover is almost manageable, but it's about the only thing about his day that is. He turned his phone off to shut up the alarm and now it won't turn back on again, leaving him with no fucking clue what time it is, at least not until he sees the bus he should have been on rumble past his flat window.

The next one isn't for half an hour, and it doesn't matter how fast he runs at the other end, he's not going to get there on time, so he might as well sit back down and have another coffee.

X

Lancelot, his manager, is waiting in the lobby when Gwaine finally gets there, holding a cardboard box and looking deeply apologetic.

“My phone broke,” Gwaine says, holding out the stupid, smashed up thing, because maybe if he gets out ahead of this he can somehow talk his way out of being sacked. “I missed my bus because I didn’t know the time, and I couldn’t call to let you know.”

Lancelot shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, because he might be Gwaine’s boss but he’s also a mate, getting on for the best one Gwaine has. “Uther came by to discuss the quarterly reports, and when he saw you weren’t in… I tried to cover for you, but he wasn't having it. I didn't have a choice.”

Gwaine wants to be mad at him, he does, but being mad at Lancelot is like being mad at a puppy, and it's not like Gwaine didn't know this was coming sooner or later. There's only so many times he can show up late or hungover or wearing mismatched shoes without consequences, and Lancelot's given him more chances than he really deserves.

“I get it,” he says, forcing a smile as he takes the box containing a measly collection of junk from his desk: a mug, in need of a good wash; a few pens; one very dead plant; three packets of instant noodles; and an ugly little green stuffed animal he has no memory of acquiring. The closest thing to a parting gift he's likely to get, Gwaine figures.

“You'll get two weeks' pay in lieu of notice,” Lancelot says. “And I'll buy you a beer after work. If- if you want me to, that is.”

Gwaine shifts the box to one arm, using the other one to haul Lancelot into a hug. “I’ll be at the pub waiting for you,” he says, then heads for the door.

That wanker Agravaine is standing right outside, puffing away on a cig as he hisses into his phone about how “no one will ever know.” His eyes narrow as Gwaine passes him by, and Gwaine returns the glare wholeheartedly; the man is a creep, no question. He thinks about telling him that, because if there's one upside of getting fired it's that he can finally tell management what he actually thinks of them and their shitty business practices.

Or it would be, if management weren't currently beckoning for security, at which point Gwaine decides he's going to return to plan A: the pub.

X

“You're early today,” Merlin greets when Gwaine arrives at his usual haunt. “Everything okay?”

“Long day,” Gwaine answers, hopping up onto a bar stool with a grin he doesn't really mean and plonking his box of crap on the stool next to him.

“It's not even lunchtime.” Merlin laughs, pulling a Gwaine a pint without having to be asked, and if this wasn't his workplace and it wasn't totally inappropriate, Gwaine would absolutely be proposing to him right now. Or, at least asking him if he wanted to get out of there, since marriage isn't a bit more of a commitment than Gwaine wants to get into just now.

“Doesn't mean it can't be long,” he says, necking his pint just to prove the point. “Keep ‘em coming?”

Merlin does just that, thereby cementing his status as Gwaine’s favourite ever bartender, and so Gwaine whiles away the hours (phone: still broken, despite his foolish hope that it might have magically repaired itself) until Lancelot shows up, buys the promised pint and spends the rest of the evening matching him drink for drink and making light conversation, carefully avoiding mention of Gwaine's unceremonious sacking.

“I'm going to call it a night,” Lancelot says eventually. “Gwen’ll be worrying.”

Gwaine, perhaps a tad worse for wear by this point, just about musters the coordination to wave. “Night,” he manages, remembering at the last moment that he can't follow it up with see you tomorrow since he won't.

Fuck, he got sacked this morning.

Still, he doesn't have to get up tomorrow morning, so he might as well stay a while longer. He’s got time for another couple of drinks before last call, and maybe if he's really lucky Merlin will offer to make sure he gets home safe.

Stumbling slightly, Gwaine hops off his barstool and heads for the loos. He does what he went in there for, washes his hands, then sets about trying to arrange himself into the kind of scruffy that says roguishly handsome rather than drunk and unemployed before deciding he’s ready to go back to the bar and be non-threateningly charming in Merlin’s direction.

There’s a noise behind him as he opens the door, someone coming out of one of the cubicles, and next thing Gwaine knows there’s a splitting pain in his head and the world goes dark.

Chapter Text

His head really hurt.

Gwaine would have thought that, after how yesterday had gone, he’d have learnt his lesson about drinking too much.

But Merlin was still gorgeous, and Gwaine couldn’t help it if he was absolutely incredible in his element.

Maybe he’d even walked him home.

Gwaine couldn’t remember, and that was just dreadful.

A wasted opportunity.

With a groan, Gwaine sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking for some water to drink.

His head was pounding as if a band was rehearsing hard rock inside his brain.

Not the best wake-up call Gwaine could have hoped for.

In fact, it was pretty rubbish, if Gwaine was being honest.

Groaning again, he shuffled vaguely in the direction of the kitchen, hoping to find some water before he died of dehydration.

Taking a sip, he promised himself he wouldn’t go to the pub that evening—instead, he’d find Merlin during his break, or after his shift.

X

“Why didn’t you show up today?”

Gwaine blinked at Lancelot, who had turned up at his flat during lunch break, holding a box of familiar belongings and wearing a guilty expression.

“What are you talking about?” Gwaine asked, confused. “And why’ve you got my stuff? Didn’t I take it yesterday?”

“No.” Lancelot huffed, because even if he wasn’t Gwaine’s boss anymore, he was still a very good friend. “You got sacked today. Your stuff was still scattered across your desk.”

Then, realising the news he’d just delivered, he tried to soften it. “I mean, I know you’ve been having some… issues, lately, but, you know what Uther’s like.”

“I know you did your best.” Gwaine muttered, bewildered.

This had already happened yesterday.

Gwaine couldn’t get fired two days in a row.

Not unless Uther had also had a particularly heavy night and forgotten he’d already fired Gwaine.

But Lancelot would’ve remembered—and even he looked sure that Gwaine should’ve turned up to work.

“I…” Gwaine murmured.

“They’re not giving you the two weeks’ notice, but they’re paying you.” Lancelot reassured him again, setting the box down on the table. “Do you want a hand finding a new job? I can ask around.”

Because Lancelot was a genuinely good friend, and he’d help Gwaine get into the competition if it meant Gwaine would be okay.

“I think I need a pint.” Gwaine said. “Or ten.”

After all, he’d been sacked two days in a row.

X

“Looks like you’ve been through hell.” Merlin greeted him with a smile—and with Gwaine’s mug, because Merlin understood him like no one else ever had.

“I got fired,” Gwaine admitted, realising he hadn’t mentioned it the night before.

Maybe confessing something would stir things up?

Maybe the dream had been a premonition of what was coming?

“I’m sorry.” Merlin looked at him with kindness and compassion—Gwaine loved how there was never any pity in Merlin’s eyes. “Come on, it’s on the house.”

“I drink more than your average customer,” Gwaine pointed out, amused and touched by Merlin’s kindness.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” Merlin said with a smile, handing him the first glass.

“Cheers!” Gwaine raised the glass, then took a sip.

A loud noise made him turn around, and next thing Gwaine knew there was a splitting pain in his head and the world went dark.

Chapter Text

Gwaine groaned as a series of beeps drilled into his skull, pausing just long enough to raise false hope before resuming louder than ever. It was a familiar sound, but today it felt personal, like ghostly hands yanking him from unconsciousness.

He lurched upright, then immediately regretted it.

He clutched his head, as if pressure might muffle the pain. It helped, but only for a second. Then came the familiar throb at the back of his skull, pulsing with the reminder that he might have lost an argument with a bar stool last night.

Somewhere beneath the ache, the alarm started up again.

He groped blindly for the bedside table, missing entirely and smacking the wood with the grace of a salmon flopping about on land. The phone vibrated smugly, inching towards the edge. He lunged, but it was too late. It tottered, paused, then swan-dived to the floor. The ensuing crack rang out, fractures blooming across the screen.

“Fuck!”

Gwaine stared at the broken phone. And then, through the fog of hangover and poor life decisions, something stirred. A dream? Maybe two. Strange, disjointed, but eerily familiar: a broken phone, being late, getting fired.

He scowled and shoved the creeping sense of déjà vu aside, planting himself on the edge of the bed and resisting the urge to shake his head like an Etch A Sketch in hopes the pain might rattle loose.

The phone was still buzzing. He reached for it again, but the screen flickered like a dodgy VHS tape. After a few failed jabs at the touchscreen, he gave up and hit the side button instead, silencing the alarm temporarily.

A shower, two paracetamol, and a strong cup of coffee later, and Gwaine felt marginally more human. The dream still clung to him like the aftertaste of a horror film, but he pulled on clothes, grabbed an apple on the way out (fruit equals health, right?), and muttered something reassuring to himself about real life being less cruel than nightmares.

He walked briskly towards the bus stop, arriving with five minutes to spare.

The bus turned the corner.

Straightening his jacket with more confidence than he felt, Gwaine stepped forwards and raised a hand to hail it.

It drove straight past him.

Not just that; it splashed a particularly well-positioned puddle up his legs in the process.

He stood there, dripping. “Fuck. Shit. Balls.”

Then, for reasons known only to adrenaline and sheer optimism, he broke into a sprint. Or something resembling one. He made it about ten metres before his lungs threatened legal action and his headache dialled itself up to eleven in protest.

He stopped. Bent over, wheezing.

There was nothing else for it. He’d have to wait for the next one.

x

Eventually, he made it to work.

He burst through the doors, trying to appear only mildly panicked. He wasn’t that late. Probably. Technically. Hopefully.

A quick glance at the clock.

Then, wham. He walked straight into Lancelot.

The man stood frozen, an empty cardboard box in his arms and a look of guilt radiating off him like cheap aftershave.

“Gwaine,” he said. “Where have you been?”

The words tumbled out before Gwaine could catch them. “Uther’s fired me, hasn’t he?”

Lancelot blinked. Gwaine blinked back.

The dream played in his mind like a rerun.

x

Gwaine rested his head against the bar with a sigh.

“Okay,” came a voice that could only be described as warm, amused, and unfairly attractive. “Either you’re still suffering from last night, or you’ve had one hell of a morning.”

He cracked one eye open. Merlin stood behind the bar, smiling in a way that lit up the entire room and made Gwaine forget how to form coherent thoughts.

Merlin tilted his head, mirroring Gwaine’s expression almost perfectly.

Gwaine quickly rearranged his face into a smile, the kind that said everything is fine in the wildly unconvincing way only the truly frazzled can manage.

The last thing he needed was sex-on-legs behind the bar thinking he was having a nervous breakdown. Or worse, thinking he was brooding.

“Ah, nothing a gargle won’t fix,” Gwaine said, voice scratchy but aiming for suave.

Merlin grinned and wordlessly poured him a pint.

And then, without much resistance from Gwaine, there were more. Somewhere between the second and the fourth, time started to tilt sideways.

Eventually, Lancelot wandered in. They chatted a bit about nothing in particular. The kind of conversation people have when they’re carefully avoiding whatever it is they should be saying.

The hours slipped by.

6 p.m., 7 p.m., 8 p.m., 9 p.m.

At last, Lancelot stood. “Right, I should head. Gwen will be worrying.”

The familiarity of Lancelot’s words cut clean through the haze of Gwaine’s alcohol-softened mind.

He knew he’d had enough to give his ears that telltale pink glow and his cheeks a warm flush, but he wasn’t completely scuttered. He was what he liked to call handsome pirate level intoxicated. Just enough swagger to be charming, not quite enough to fall off a bar stool.

He shook off the déjà vu and mumbled a half-hearted goodbye, making no move to leave himself.

Instead, his eyes slid to Merlin. A flicker of a thought returned, something about wanting the barman to take him home. Not that that was anything new. Honestly, his brain could probably host a full cinematic marathon of Merlin-based daydreams. Merlin helping him through his front door. Merlin pinning him with That Look™, staring at him with ocean-blue eyes under lashes that should be illegal. Merlin with his sleeves rolled up and intentions.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

With practised ease, he perched on a stool and rested his elbows on the bar. Merlin, irritatingly flawless, was polishing a glass. A crime, really. No one had any business looking that good while doing something so mundane.

“So,” Gwaine said, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth, “how come you always look like you stepped out of a dream?”

“Because you’re drunk and the lighting’s soft,” Merlin replied. “Try again when you’re sober.”

“Oof.” Gwaine clutched his chest in mock injury. “You wound me, barkeep.”

Merlin leant in, eyes gleaming. “You’re very woundable after a few pints, Gwaine.”

Gwaine opened his mouth to deliver something devastatingly clever and undeniably flirtatious. But then a dull throb bloomed at the base of his skull. He glanced at the clock.

10:30.

He frowned. And then—

Thunk.

Chapter Text

He hated mornings. He’d forgotten to shut the blinds before bed, so the sun was trying very hard to scorch his eyes out, and his damn phone was positively drilling into his brain with a series of bee—

Wait.

He covered his face and forced himself to think through the headache. It wasn’t so bad this time—he was hung over, yes, but it wasn’t a ”hit over the head” kind of headache.

Which was a weirdly specific thought.

It was all—Dammit, he couldn’t think over the stupid beeping.

He scrambled around the bed trying to locate the wretched thing and found it when it smacked to the floor.

His stomach sank.

Sure enough, when he brought it, still shrieking, to his face, the cracked screen glared back at him, a mockery of foresight. He hit the side button, mind racing.

The memories felt groggy, mushed into one another: broken phone, being late, getting fired. A bad dream? It couldn’t be a dream. Could it?

X

He did his best to catch the bus. Missed it. But he avoided the puddle.

He stood on the sidewalk, and stared at the splash zone he’d just sidestepped. He pinched himself hard on the palm. It really, really didn’t feel like a dream. Neither did the memories.

In which case there really was no point in going to work, was there? Still in a hung-over daze, he let his feet carry him past the morning commuters, the sounds of cars passing by mixing with the buzzing of his own anxiety.

He didn’t know where he was headed until he stood in front of the pub. Going by pure muscle memory, he pulled at the door and was stumped when it didn’t open.

Right. It wasn’t even noon yet.

He dragged a hand through his hair. The light drizzle was threatening to turn into a downpour and—

”Gwaine?”

He whipped around with a speed that made it known his headache was only subdued, not gone. His wince doubled when he noticed none other than Merlin crossing the street, walking towards him, a grocery bag swinging from his left hand.

”We’re not open yet,” he said when he came to a stop in front of Gwaine, his blue eyes searching his face.

”Yeah, I,” Gwaine stammered. ”Fuck.” Get it together, man. He managed to carve out a sheepish smile. ”A bit out of it today, sorry.”

Merlin frowned, eyeing him with a concerned look. He glanced at the closed down bar, then at the threatening sky.

”Wanna come up?” he finally offered, digging through his pockets and pulling out a house key.

Gwaine hesitated. ”You don’t have to… I don’t mean to intrude.”

But Merlin was already stepping towards the neighbouring doorway. ”You look like you need a cup of tea. Come on.”

X

“So what’s wrong?” Merlin said as the kettle boiled. The apartment was small, barely larger than Gwaine’s own and smelled lightly of herbs. Gwaine sat at the kitchen table, feeling out of place and awkward. He didn’t know how many times he’d wished Merlin would invite him over to his place, but none of his daydreams included existential crises.

“I think I got fired,” Gwaine said because that was easier than admitting to being stuck in a… a freaking time loop or something. Either that or going insane. Or both.

“You’re not sure?” Merlin said as he poured tea into two mugs–one a sleek black design, one with a crazy cartoon print on it. The second one’s handles were part of the design: an ear and a tail. It was, by all accounts, hideous. Merlin eyed both alternatives and then pushed the colourful monstrosity towards Gwaine, who had to bite down on a ridiculous wave of warmth. Of course Merlin would think that was the prettier one. And would then give it to a guest instead of keeping it as his own.

“I’m sure,” he said, groping for their conversation thread as a way to distract himself. At this point, having skipped half the workday, he was quite sure he was fired, yeah.

“I’m sorry about that,” Merlin said carefully, sitting down to join him at the table.

Gwaine shrugged. He wasn’t. It wasn't like he didn't know this was coming sooner or later. There were only so many times he could show up late or hungover or wearing mismatched shoes without consequences, and Lancelot'd given him more tha–

He swallowed a queasy feeling as he realized he’d had that exact thought before.

He put the tea down with shaking hands.

“Got any whiskey to go with this?” he said instead of admitting he was losing his mind.

X

Gwaine stared blankly at the familiar box Lancelot had put down on the barstool next to him. A mug–gray, no cartoon printing; a few pens–trash, all of them; a dead plant–very dead; instant noodles–pathetic excuse for food; and a little green stuffed animal. It looked like it was trying to be a lizard. A dinosaur, maybe. With wings.

“Right, I should head home. Gwen will be worrying,” Lancelot was saying. Was it that late already?

Time was blurring together. What even was time at this point? Maybe he’d get another go at it tomorrow. He suppressed a giggle at the thought.

The room swam around him, but then: Merlin’s concerned face. A blessed anchor in the storm.

“...definitely had enough,” he was saying, coming around the bar with a glass and a pitcher of water.

And because Merlin was pretty and worried and Gwaine was shit faced and worried, when Merlin leaned in to fill the glass, Gwaine said, “I think I’m in a time loop.”

He expected Merlin to brush him off, to dismiss his ramblings as drunken babble. Instead the blue eyes sharpened.

“A time loop?” he repeated, no trace of mockery.

Gwaine nodded, watching as unknown expressions flashed over his face.

“Okay,” Merlin began, “tomorrow, you–”

His words got drowned out by a familiar dull throb at the base of Gwaine’s skull.

The last thing he did before darkness engulfed him was glance at the clock.

10:30 on the dot.

Chapter Text

Gwaine woke up to the piercing sound of his alarm.

He hated mornings, and he hated his alarm, and he hated that damn headache that kept pounding. He yanked his arm from under the covers with the intention to hit his phone and turn off the alarm, but he froze mid movement. His brain yelled at him to avoid doing that, to not break his phone.

Weird, but he sometimes had good instincts, so Gwaine grabbed his phone instead, and with much self restraint, managed to turn the alarm off without damage. The screen turned black again, accompanied by a blessed silence, but not before Gwaine caught the date displayed on the screen.

Yep, same day. Twice is a coincidence, thrice a fact, and … yeah, no idiom for four. People probably would lose patience after that, he supposed. Anyway, Gwaine had the memory of the same day happening four times already, every instance being different except for two things: getting fired, and seeing that sex-on-legs bartender two days in a row.

Ok. Think.

That sounded completely bonkers, but somehow, that freaking day kept on repeating itself. After all, that happened in movies and in books, so it could happen in reality? Maybe the people who had told these stories had lived the situation themselves? That, or Gwaine was certifiable.

Naaah, time loop, Gwaine told himself with a shake of the head – a very, very bad idea. That was a good start, but Gwaine had no idea why that happened, or how to break the cycle.

Not getting fired would certainly be a great start. But for that, he needed to catch the bus!

The thought gave him the little burst of energy he needed, and so Gwaine proceeded to get ready for work in record time. Or, well, as fast as he could with his headache. He got his coffee running while he grabbed decent clothes and some medicine. His shower was mechanic, and Gwaine was off to work with one minute to spare to catch the bus! That, and a still working phone.

Obviously, buses being buses, as Gwaine arrived to the stop, he saw that the one he was supposed to get on had driven by three minutes ahead of schedule, aka two minutes ago.

Well, so much for getting to work on time. Thankfully, his phone still worked, so he called Lancelot to let him know of his problem. Lancelot who did not answer, which wasn’t a good sign, so Gwaine sent a text.

The universe seemed to indeed want him to get fired, because by the time he got to work, Lancelot was waiting for him with a box full of his possessions. Again.

X

Possessions under his arm, rendez-vous agreed upon with Lancelot tonight, there was only one constant left: Merlin. Merlin, who, if Gwaine remembered correctly, had not seemed to think that Gwaine was losing his marbles when he mumbled something about the time loop.

Now, maybe the man had indulged him only because he thought him drunk.

Eh. Should Gwaine say something? What if that one time was the last? If he said something to Merlin and that the day didn’t repeat itself, Merlin would remember and think that Gwaine was certifiable, and then never speak to him again. But maybe Merlin could help. How, Gwaine didn’t know, but maybe, if indeed he had not seemed surprised, did he believe him? Did he experience something like that too? Maybe they were both aware of the time loop! Oh, what if they had to work together to get out of it??

Okay, now Gwaine sounded ridiculous, even to himself. This wasn’t a movie, dammit.

Oh gosh. To say something, or not to say something to Merlin. Gwaine guessed he would have to wait and see, if the opportunity arose. For now, the pub.

Gwaine arrived there in time to see Merlin serve one customer, then flick his hair with his right hand and put a towel on his shoulder with the other. His troubles were momentarily forgotten, his brain suddenly focused on the bartender. As he walked in, Merlin caught his gaze and all thoughts fled Gwaine’s brain.

They only came back when Merlin eyed the box with curiosity. “Rough start?”

“Yeah, I got fired.”

“Shit. Well, this one is on me,” Merlin said before pouring a pint and sliding it over to Gwaine.

Gwaine raised his glass and tilted it along with a sign of the head and started to drink. Ah, yes, his favourite choice from all the tap beers.

After what felt like hours, but was probably more like 20 minutes, Gwaine’s musings were interrupted by Merlin’s rich tone of voice.

“Alright. I’m starting to know you. ‘Fess up, what’s going on with you?”

“Getting fired?”

“Not that. You’ve said you hated half the company you worked in. If it were only that, you would only be annoyed by the fact you need another job. So, what’s going on?”

Gwaine hesitated for a few seconds, then told everything to Merlin. Surprisingly, Merlin did not scoff or even just raise an eyebrow. No, Merlin sat down next to him and listened in silence, and visibly got invested after Gwaine talked about Merlin’s mugs.

In the afternoon, they devised a plan to understand what caused the loop in the first place. Gwaine felt invigorated to have a goal, and having bounced ideas with Merlin had been both interesting and funny. That was how Lancelot found him in the evening, still somewhat sober and ready to chat. Also, very ready to take his eyes off Merlin for now, whom he had discovered, was a passionate man, with a piercing gaze when interested in something.

As Lancelot left to get back to Gwen, Merlin walked to Gwaine.

“How long til it starts over?”

Gwaine checked the time and sighed. “Five minutes.”

“How does it happen?”

“Randomly, sort of. My head starts to hurt, then blackout, then I wake up with a raging headache.”

“As if being stuck wasn’t enough,” Merlin said, his eyes soft and full of compassion. Gwaine wanted to drown in that gaze, but that wasn’t possible, so he simply nodded. “Come to me tomorrow, and say the name Aithusa when talking about that.”

“Aithusa. Noted.”

Merlin nodded, then put a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder and gave him a blinding smile. “How ‘bout you head off with a bang, eh?”

That was official: Gwaine was in love. He desperately wanted to kiss the man – grab him by the collar and press him to the wall, or maybe get grabbed and pressed to the wall before getting kissed into tomorrow – but that would have to wait. Gwaine barely had the time to down his shot before the world went dark.

Chapter Text

Gwaine’s alarm was way too shrill for that time in the morning. He groped for it and knocked his phone to the floor a millisecond before remembering.

“Fuck.”

He couldn’t check the date but he knew it was the same day. His headache was too fierce for how much he drank for it to be otherwise.

He stumbled around the flat, grabbing a couple of painkillers. Right. He had options. He could make another apparently pointless attempt to make it to work on time, or he could skip that and just visit Merlin, who, aside from being hot, actually believed him about the time loop. That madman.

Decision made, he now had some time to kill before the pub opened and he could see Merlin. He indulged in a long, hot shower and a coffee in the meantime, and when he finished, the painkillers had kicked in and he felt a little more alive.

Now to go and see Merlin.

X

Merlin raised an eyebrow as he entered the pub, one of the first inside.

“What are you doing here so early?”

“I–” Gwaine hesitated. Would Merlin believe him? Was he just humouring Gwaine yesterday? There was still a chance of the world going back to normal on its own – if that happened tonight, would he just have humiliated himself in front of the man he fancied?

Fuck it.

“I need to speak to you about Aithusa.”

Merlin’s eyes widened. He poured Gwaine a pint and slid it across the bar.

“I’ll be over once I’ve served this customer.”

Gwaine watched Merlin, trying to appreciate the sight instead of his nerves. Merlin served the customer quickly, wrapping up the small talk, before coming back to Gwaine and fixing him with his most intense blue-eyed stare. The one that sucks Gwaine in and makes him feel like he’s the only person in the world. The one Gwaine fell in love with.

“So. You’re stuck in a time loop.” Gwaine nodded, sipping his beer. “What happened?”

“You believe me? Just like that?”

“You said Aithusa. It’s a codeword. So if anyone ever told me they were in a time loop, I would tell them to say that to me on the next loop and I'd know they were telling the truth.”

“Huh.” Gwaine was learning new things that he never knew about Merlin. “Why Aithusa?”

The tips of Merlin’s ears turned red. “It’s not important. We need to figure out how to get you out of this. How long’s it been going on for?”

“Five days. Well, six now.”

Merlin frowned. “What happened on the first day? The one that keeps repeating?”

So between bouts of customers Gwaine told Merlin the whole story, of breaking his phone and Uther firing him and that damned bus. Then he talked about the subsequent days, and the eternal frustration of not being able to get to work on time. At some point during their theorising about time loops and breaking them, Lancelot turned up with Gwaine’s box of belongings and a worried look, then joined them for a drink (only one, looking concerned for both of their sanities, before heading home to Gwen).

“So is midnight when your day restarts?”

Gwaine shook his head, slightly lightheaded, having drunk more than he’d intended. But Merlin is on the job, not just his mate, and this is a pub.

“10:30.”

Merlin glanced at the clock. So did he. 10:15.

“Just time for one last round then.”

Merlin passed Gwaine a glass, raising his own.

“To finding a solution tomorrow.”

“To finding a solution,” agreed Gwaine. Hopefully he’d remember well enough to explain everything they’d already talked about to Merlin tomorrow. Again.

“And don’t forget: the word’s Aithusa.”

Gwaine nodded.

10:28.

The second hand ticked round. The base of his skull throbbed.

The world went dark.

Chapter Text

Gwaine's eyes snapped open, head pounding and shrill beeping of his phone alarm echoing through his mess of a room.

Blindly flinging his hand across the bedside table, he slapped his phone to the ground, once again shattering the screen.

Happens every morning, he might as well continue the tradition.

Head pounding, Gwaine half crawled after the shrieking device to complete his morning ritual and putting the beast out of its misery.

He then rolls onto his back, pressing his palms into his eye sockets and groans, long and low, trying to will away the headache.

If he gets out of this, he's going to change that damn alarm sound.

Softly groaning as his head throbs, he adds to his vow:

-and maybe stop drinking.

Right, first steps: meeting Merlin.

X

"Aithusia," he says, leaning casually against the wall next to the front entrance of the pub.

Merlin stares, keys in hand, slack mouthed at Gwaine. Beautiful blue eyes searching Gwaine's face as he puzzles out what's happening.

Then, his jaw shuts with a click and with raised eyebrows, he replies, "Time loop?"

X

Ugly, patterned mug pressed into his hands, Gwaine lets the warm steam curl across his face. Ever the perfect man, Merlin not only pulls a mean pint, but his tea is also fantastic.

"Alright, so," Merlin begins, sitting across from him, "what have we tried?"

He's left Gwaine the beaten, but cosy sofa, covered in different blankets that he'd sunk into as soon as he sat down, and pulled a rickety dining table chair to sit across from him.

The gesture leaves Gwaine with a little smile that he hides behind a sip of tea.

"Nothing, I suppose," he answers after a moment of thought.

"Nothing?" Merlin asks, raising a disapproving eyebrow.

"Honestly, Merls, there's been a lot of denial," he jokes, watching the corner of Merlin's mouth twitch in amusement.

“But seriously,” he asks, “nothing?”

“Well, how do you break a time loop, anyway?” Gwaine counters, “it's not like either of us have been in one before.”

“What do you actually do everyday?”

“Wake up. Hangover. Shower. Get fired. Pub,”

“You go to the pub every day?” Merlin asks incredulously.

“If in doubt, get a pint,” he says, which is far easier than admitting it's not the alcohol he comes for. Though, the alcohol doesn't hurt.

Merlin rolls his eyes, “you have a problem.”

He sips his tea for a moment in that sleek, black mug of his, deep in thought.

“Well, have you done that every day?” he asks.

“I suppose?”

“Then, we'll break it.”

X

They sit on a blanket in the grass beneath a sycamore tree, shopping bag full of picnic foods and sky bright as Merlin's eyes above them.

“So, what now?” Gwaine asks, watching the rolling fields and a rainstorm blowing over the distant city beneath them. He'd blindly followed Merlin on a series of public transport journeys, taking them further and further away from the city.

Merlin hands him a bottle of squash, opening his own and taking a sip.

“No alcohol, no dingy pub, far from the city. Maybe breaking the cycle instead of doing the same thing over and over- maybe it'll help.”

“And if it doesn't?”

“Then it's not a bad way to waste a day.”

They sit in silence, watching the breeze dance over the grass. It's actually a rather nice day.

He's never noticed that before.

Gwaine tips his head up, closing his eyes and letting the sunshine fall on his face.

“-Are you alright to just close the pub?” he asks.

X

Hours had passed since they first sat down, talking and eating as the day passed. They had watched the sun set, sky a brilliant orange, and as the night air had gotten cooler, Merlin had produced two blankets out of nowhere to keep them warm.

An half-eaten packet of biscuits sits at the picnic blanket near Merlin's outstretched leg, and the two have edged closer as the day drew on, practically shoulder to shoulder now, chatting about everything and nothing.

Gwaine can't remember the last time he did something like this with a friend. Talking, just to talk. Getting away from it all.

"-What does it mean anyway? Aithusia?" Gwaine asks.

Merlin smiles that sheepish little smile, then starts to speak, “When I was a kid, I didn't have a lot of friends-"

"What? Why?!" Gwaine interrupts, outraged.

Merlin smiles, and nudges him, shaking his head and looking up at the stars.

"-so I had an imaginary friend I called Aithusia. She was a little white dragon, and I took her everywhere for years, told everyone all about what she got up to. It's a bit embarrassing in hindsight. So no one really knows about her. Till you."

"So I'm special, then?" Gwaine smiles.

Merlin turns to look at him, blue sheen from the night sky reflecting off of his perfect cheekbones. There aren't any city lights around, so the night sky is filled with constellations Gwaine rarely sees in the city.

Funny, how there are all those stars, but all he can look at is Merlin.

“I suppose you are,” Merlin grins back.

Those sky blue eyes pierce his own. He could look into them forever, but it starts getting harder, his vision blurring.

His head begins dipping, too heavy to keep up and fuzzy, like he's had too much to drink. But, he hasn't drunk, Merlin made sure of that…

Gwaine closes his eyes and lets his head fall against Merlin's shoulder, trying to stave off the splitting headache beginning to form in the back of his skull.

“-are you alright?”

Merlin's soft voice cuts through the din of his mind, soothing to his ears.

He's not sure he's ever been this close to Merlin, the bartender's short hair tickling his forehead. He uses cotton-scented softener on his clothes… Gwaine didn't know that.

“You know-” Gwaine murmurs, chasing the heat radiating from his shoulder, “I think I lov-”

And it's 10:30 again.

And everything goes black.

Chapter Text

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEE-

Gwaine’s eyes shot open and even with his head feeling like someone took a jackhammer to it, he managed to grab his phone this time instead of shoving it onto the floor.

That, however, did not stop it from falling out of his hand to land on the floor anyway, alarm still blaring.

His phone really wanted to break, didn’t it?

Gwaine let out a groan as he rolled over and hung off the bed just enough to grab his phone and not only shut the damned thing off, but also confirm that yes, the screen was, once again, broken.

Forcing himself onto his back, Gwaine ran a hand over his face roughly and gave another low groan before staring at the ceiling.

“Fuck.”

X

Since he’d given up on trying to get to work on time, Gwaine allowed himself a long shower while waiting for the painkillers to kick in. He needed to feel as human as possible for what he wanted to do this morning.

Which is why Gwaine was now sitting at his little kitchen table with a strong mug of coffee and a piece of paper in front of him, pen in hand.

Merlin said yesterday —or the last loop of today, whatever— that breaking the cycle might help. If Gwaine followed that line of thinking, ignoring the fact that he didn’t have any other ideas anyway, then making a list of things he could do differently and narrowing down what didn’t or wouldn’t work might help more.

Taking a sip of coffee, Gwaine started to write.

He was quick to write down and cross off ‘Arrive on time for work’ and ‘don’t break phone’. He had already tried both options and neither worked. He wasn’t exactly upset about losing his shit job, to be honest. Quite the opposite. Uther was an awful boss and Gwaine had only stayed there as long as he did for the paycheck. The pay wasn’t even that good, actually.

‘Focus, Gwaine!’ a voice in his head that suspiciously sounded like Merlin’s told him.

Another easy one to cross off the list was ‘don’t take shower’ and ‘don’t take painkillers’. Gwaine wasn’t sure about a lot of things, especially about how to break out of a time loop, but he was certain that not showering or taking painkillers wouldn’t stop this nonsense.

Gwaine also crossed off ‘don’t drink’ and ‘don’t go to pub’. He and Merlin had tried that yesterday and, well, that hadn’t worked at all.

Not that Gwaine regretted it one bit. Truth be told, it was one of the best days he’d had in quite a long time. Merlin had taken him out of the city, away from the bustle and noise, and they just enjoyed the weather, sitting together, talking, and enjoying each other’s company. Gwaine had even learned about Aithusa, which made him feel special.

"So I'm special, then?" Gwaine smiled.

“I suppose you are,” Merlin grinned back.

Thinking back on that moment now, Gwaine swore that he would’ve kissed Merlin if he had been given more time.

But he hadn’t, and here he was.

Shaking his head, Gwaine looked at his updated list:

• Don’t go out
• Don’t see Merlin
• Tell Merlin you love him
• Kiss Merlin

He let out a breath. Well, there weren’t a lot of options left, which was good. Or bad, depending on how one —AKA him— looked at it.

Gwaine leaned forward a little, sipping his coffee. As much as he detested the idea, he knew that he had to try the ‘don’t go out’ option this go around, which would be combined with the ‘don’t see Merlin’ option by default.

Because he wasn’t exactly sure if Merlin would ever believe that Gwaine loved him, or be accepting of Gwaine kissing him.

Not going out didn’t bother Gwaine, not really. Not seeing Merlin, though, made him feel guilty. Merlin was the only one who believed him about the time loop, who was helping Gwaine actually try to break the damn thing and not seeing him only because it may break the time loop felt like a shitty reason to stay away.

The fact that Gwaine was head over heels gone for him might have something to do with it too.

“Son of a fuck,” he swore quietly as he circled both ‘don’t go out’ and ‘don’t see Merlin’ on his list, setting the pen down and taking a large drink of coffee.

X

The rest of Gwaine’s day was largely spent in front of the television, switching between watching whatever was vaguely interesting on cable or on streaming, only interrupted by Lancelot paying him a visit with a box of his things to tell him that he’d been sacked and offering to help him find a new job.

Gwaine almost laughed at how Lancelot’s words this visit were nearly the same as when he paid a visit to his flat during the second loop of today.

“Today’s been boring,” Gwaine said later that night, looking between the TV, which was currently showing a rerun of ‘Love Island’, and the green stuffed animal sitting on the couch next to him. “Not that I’m really complaining, but…”

The green thing just stared at him, unimpressed by his words, and Gwaine huffed, setting out his third —or was it his fourth?— beer to pick it up. “What are you supposed to be anyway?” He asked, turning it over in his hands.

He didn’t even remember where he got it from. Was it a joke gift he got? Or did it just migrate to his desk somehow and become his?

Gwaine touched the wings of the stuffed animal and remembered Merlin’s words from yesterday.

Aithusa.

“She was a little white dragon-“

“You’re a dragon!” Gwaine exclaimed, looking into the animal’s beady eyes. “Just like Aithusa is. Was.”

If the object could talk, Gwaine was sure it would be calling him an idiot. “I think I’ll call you Aithusa. You’re not white like she is, but Merlin will-”

The clock on the television turned to 10:30.

The base of his skull throbbed.

Everything went black.

Chapter Text

Head throbbing in pain, the rhythm the same as his blasted alarm and, as so many times before, Gwaine fumbled for his phone only to have it slip through his fingers and crack. He stared for a moment before sighing in deep resignation. “Of fucking course it’s the same day…”

He dragged himself out of the bed, giving the broken technology a good kick in a futile attempt to vent his frustration. Rinse and repeat. The morning went by as the last few had. For a flicker of a second, he considered being rude to Lancelot as he showed up with his cardboard box. ‘It’s not his fault you're getting fired over and over,’ Gwaine reprimanded himself. A put on smile, a slight rebuff at Lancelot’s offer. Unlike the days before he said, “I think I need a few days to sort myself out. Can I call you when I start hunting?”

It seemed to be the right way to answer; Lancelot’s hazel eyes lit up and his shoulders lowered, the tension caused by worry for a dear friend bleeding out. Because Gwaine knew that was the kind of man Lancelot was, and he appreciated him greatly for it. “Yes of course. Call if you need anything. Do you want to meet at the bar later?”

“Actually, no thank you, Lancelot.”

After Lancelot left, Gwaine sat down, taking the dragon out and setting him next to his list he copied from memory. “So Aithusa, think I should tell him? I mean he knows about time loops somehow. Come to think of it, a rather interesting fact he hasn’t answered fully…”

Gwaine mused for a moment before risking a glance at his clock. He was running out of time.

“So… to tell him, or to kiss him hm.”

Logical conclusion would be he needed to try telling Merlin he loved him or kiss him. Gwaine wasn’t sure which option was more terrifying. His old fear of rejection flared, his longing for love whispered, the two at war with each other.

This continued the whole way to the pub and once he went inside. Seeing Merlin smiling and prepping drinks, Gwaine thought, ‘telling him I love him is the best’.

Once he sat at the bar, naturally he opted for kissing. Worse case? It broke the cycle and Merlin would hate him for it. Best case? Even if Merlin wasn't thrilled with it, he’d forget it by the next loop and Gwaine could try to ‘unlove’ Merlin as a new goal for his ‘doing things differently’ list.

They exchanged greetings and when Merlin once more asked if he had a rough day, Gwaine simply answered with, “Aithusa.”

“Oh. I- give me a moment. I-” Merlin turned around looking through the bar and nodded to his coworker and friend, Mordred, before coming out from behind the bar and gesturing for Gwaine to follow him.

They went to the backroom, something Gwaine had fantasised about a lot before, but in a different, more sexy context.

Making sure they were alone, Merlin inquired, “So, time loop? What have we talked about so far?”

“Quite a bit.”

“Oh? When will it restart, Gwaine? I need a bit more information to know what we’re working with here!” Merlin said, sounding a bit exasperated Gwaine’s admittedly abrupt answers and uncharacteristic seriousness the untypical somber behaviour and shortness Gwaine’s sentences have.

“Actually, the loop restarts at 10.30, so-” With a tiny bit more, Gwaine bridged the distance and kissed Merlin with every bit of his feelings poured into it.

The clock hit 10.30.

Chapter Text

Splitting headache. Clumsy movements. Broken phone.

How many days was this now?

Once Gwaine had cleaned himself up (shower, painkillers, coffee), he found himself in his kitchen, doodling the shape of something vaguely like his little green Aithusa on a notepad with one hand, the other hovering just above his lips.

Merlin.

He’d actually done it. He’d kissed the hottest bartender ever born. Maybe he really could stop drinking now.

Except he couldn’t, because it hadn’t stopped the time loop, and somehow, someway, he knew it wouldn’t. Did it make him a coward to kiss Merlin like that, knowing he wasn’t leaving a chance to respond? Knowing there wouldn’t be a chance to say no, or yes, that it would only ever be a selfish two-seconds of heaven for the one between them who would remember it?

Whatever. It’s done now.

Gwaine left the pen open on the table and his apartment unlocked, he took his time wandering down the pub, remembering how it had been a nice day when Merlin took him out of the city. It wasn’t that nice of a day here, he knew from experience the clouds overhead were going to begin a steady descent into madness any second now, and this was about the tenth time he’d broken his phone and lost his job and–

“Gwaine?”

— there was Merlin, with the grocery bag again.

“We’re not open yet.”

“Can I have your number?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes, a confused grin growing on his face.

“If this is you hitting on me, we both know you’re better at it when you’re drunk.”

Gwaine chuckled. “I wish. I was thinking of putting your contact down as Aithusa?”

And just like that, he was back in Merlin’s apartment, watching him grab those two mugs out of the cupboard just as the kettle finished.

“How do you manage to get out of work every time I ask?”

Merlin shrugged, his back to Gwaine. “I work a little magic.”

He turned around and pressed the horrible cartoon mug into Gwaine’s hands, keeping the black one for himself. “Besides, if you’re in a time loop and we don’t break it, I don’t get in trouble. If we do, I have a fantastic excuse for missing.”

“Oh yeah? Your boss would believe you?”

Merlin laughed. “Probably not, but he’s heard weirder. We both know I’m far too good to lose.”

Gwaine smiled. “Ain’t that right.”

Merlin took a sip and put his mug down dramatically. “So, what’s our plan?”

X

Gwaine followed Merlin around the rest of the day like a hopeless puppy as they retraced his steps from the very first loop.

“This is not exactly how I imagined getting you in my bedroom.” He muttered nervously as Merlin peered intensely at his nightstand.

“You’ve imagined that?” Merlin shot him a quick, cheeky glance.

Gwaine put his hands up in defense. “Hey, you’re the one who insisted.”

Merlin conceded the point and straightened out.

“So, you got up, left the house, bus stop next?”

“Bus stop next.”

So they checked the bus stop, both getting soaked by that damned puddle overflowing just as they arrived, and then caught the next one to Gwaine’s (former) place of work. They spent enough time in the lobby there that someone called Lancelot, who came down the elevator with an armful of apologies and a cardboard box.

Then they were back at the thankfully-still-quiet pub, then crowded together inside the bathroom.

“I could’ve sworn there was someone in here with me, right at the end.” Gwaine mumbled, pushing restlessly at a stall door.

Merlin furrowed his brows. Gwaine was seeing that expression a lot today.

“We could wait around, find out who they are, see if that changes anything.”

Gwaine shook his head. “Rather not.”

“It’s our only lead.”

Gwaine sighed. “Will you tell me what you’ve actually been looking for all day?”

Merlin’s eyes turned skittish for a moment before he summoned an answer. “Just anything out of the ordinary, I guess.”

“What, like fairy dust?”

“Yeah, fairy dust. Can we get out of here if we’re not gonna wait for this mystery man?”

Gwaine shrugged. “Fine by me.”

And so they made their way back to Merlin’s flat, lit sparsely by a couple candles haphazardly in front of the tiniest TV Gwaine had ever seen, daylight having died long ago.

Gwaine, somehow, had lodged himself into Merlin’s side. Merlin, somehow, had let him.

“You never gave me your number.” He mumbled.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Give me your phone, I’ll put it in now. You’ll have to remember it though.”

“Write it down, I don’t have it with me.”

“Why not?”

“Broke it this morning.”

Merlin scoffed. “Sure you aren’t flirting? I don’t see why you ask if you always break your phone.”

“Some mornings I remember in time and don’t fumble so badly.”

“Not this one?”

Gwaine shrugged. “Woke up more disoriented than usual.”

“Why? What happened?”

Gwaine pushed himself upright. “What time is it?”

“10.23.”

Gwaine nodded. Merlin softened slightly (Gwaine didn’t know that was possible).

“You know, you once claimed the bar’s lighting’s what made you look so good, but you look nice here too.”

“So you are flirting.”

“You want to know what happened last night?”

Merlin nodded, rolling his eyes just slightly.

“I kissed you.”

“Did I kiss back?” Merlin replied instantly.

Whatever response he was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Gwaine’s failure to respond must’ve said it all, because then Merlin’s lips were on his and he wasn’t the one who started it.

In fact, Merlin was all over him — it was a very small couch, so it was slightly unavoidable, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like a thousand gentle explosions across the air between them.

And all too soon, Merlin was pulling away and scribbling something on a piece of paper.

“Memorise this, and don’t break your phone tomorrow morning. I expect to be hearing from you very soon.”

“You won’t expect anything.”

Merlin leaned in real close for one moment longer. “Maybe I like that.”

If Gwaine was any less flustered, or couldn’t feel the drowsy pull of his time limit dragging him down, he might’ve found a response for that. Instead, he set himself to his task, reciting the number over a hundred times, and felt a little less terrible than usual when that now-familiar pain erupted in his skull and the world went dark.

Chapter Text

After ten full days, Gwaine thought he might be getting the hang of things. He woke up before his alarm, if only by half a minute. A small victory was still a victory after all. 

Climbing out of bed with a pounding headache, Gwaine grabbed the “dream journal” Gwen had bought him when she went through her mindfulness phase, and scribbled a new to-do list: 

I catch the bus, I go to work. I get fired (sorry Gwaine), then I grab Merlin, we stay in the pub, hole up, have a pint and wait for this whole thing to blow over. He crossed out the last part with a sigh, and wrote instead; “we stay in the pub, hole up, have a pint, I ask Merlin how the hell he knows so much about weird shit and we find out who wants to bump me off. Then I kiss Merlin and ask him to marry me.” 

Shaking his head at his own indulgence, Gwaine got out of bed to get ready for the job he was already late to (and already sacked from). As he showered—he may as well smell nice, it wasn’t as if it mattered—he recalled what Merlin had given him. Gwaine had managed not to break his phone, so he sent Merlin a text with the phrase he’d been given yesterday. Today. Every day. He even signed off with a kiss, because the chances were this would all be forgotten in less than twenty-four hours. 

~Hoc transibit xxx

~ Who is this??? X

~ Gwaine. Time loop. You wrote it for me to remember xxx
Gwaine sent the text with slight exasperation, knowing Merlin wouldn’t have a clue what he was on about and he’d have to explain again. 

~ Makes sense. I did wonder why someone was texting in Latin. See u at the pub after u collect ur stuff off Lance xx

Gwaine stared at the text. He pressed the call button beside Merlin’s name. 

“Hello Gwaine.” 

“Merlin.”

“You want to know why I remember?” Merlin sounded almost amused on the other end of the phone, the smug bastard. 

“No, actually,” Gwaine said, trying not to let any sulkiness colour his tone. “I want to know what the hell it means and why you made me memorise Latin.” 

“I thought it sounded quite professional and fancy. More than just saying the English of ‘it will pass’. I just used it to give us both a link to yesterday, and to make sure I wasn’t going mad. To answer your real question, I stayed up all night. Your day ended at 10:30. Mine never stopped.” There was definitely a note of smugness now. 

 “Easy as that?” Gwaine tried for levity. 

“Easy as that. No, I don’t know why we didn’t think of it before.” 

“Because I was three sheets to the wind for most of it, and you were focused on my charm and good looks?” 

“Something like that. Look, are you coming down here or not?” Merlin laughed, and ended the call. Gwaine rolled his eyes, and dug out a decent t-shirt and his black jeans. He might as well meet his end in a decent outfit. Hair damp, he left to miss the bus. He didn’t even bother collecting his things from the office, just sent Lance a text to take them back to his and he’d pick them up when he next came over. 

Swanning into the pub, Gwaine took his preferred seat. “You look like shit,” he said, helpfully, to Merlin who stood behind the bar with dark smudges beneath his eyes and a pinched expression. Merlin didn’t deign to give him an answer to that, sticking up his middle finger instead. 

“I’d offer to kiss it better, but I think you might actually murder me. Which would save us a lot of time, though I don’t seem to be short of that at the minute.”  It raised a tired smile from Merlin, which was the best Gwaine could have hoped for, he supposed. 

“So,” Merlin said around a yawn, before thinking better of it, holding up a hand, and taking out two mugs for the coffee machine. “I kept myself occupied while not going to bed. Looking into Pendragon Industries.” Gwaine smiled in approval when Merlin poured a dash of Bailey’s into both of them (“it’s more of a dessert than alcohol”) and pushed one towards him. “Pendragon deals in various technologies, right? AI, upgrades, smart homes, that kind of thing? Well, what if there was more than that? What if there was a department they didn’t declare? I read so many yearly stats and some of the numbers just didn’t add up.”

“So you think there’s a secret spy film take-over-the-world department? In an office block?” Gwaine snorted, joking, shaking his head. Although he was a lot more inclined to believe it on his eleventh runthrough of the same day than he might have been on the second.

“I’m saying there’s an experimental take-over-the-world department, yes. Which, if we think about it, they must think you know about, and sent someone to—”

“Smack me on the head with a heavy object?” Gwaine finished airily, sipping his coffee.

“Not as stupid as you look,” Merlin said with a smirk, raising his mug. 

Gwaine sent a text to Lancelot to tell him not to bother coming to the pub. 

As it turned out, Merlin was only half right. 

Agravaine knew Gwaine had no idea about the underground department of Pendragon Industries. However, Gwaine recalled when he saw the slimy git’s face as he slunk into the pub at 10:15pm, Gwaine had overheard him talking about how nobody would ever know. With a feeling of foreboding, he caught Merlin’s eye and gave him the tiniest nod and slid from his seat. Gwaine wobbled to the loos, having had nothing to drink other than his irish coffee but acting as if he’d been at it all day, staggering and stumbling. 

Gwaine shut himself in a cubicle until he heard the door open again. He heard the door open again, and another cubicle door shut. He could only hope it was Merlin, as planned as he left to wash his hands, eyes on the mirror. Agravaine stood at the urinal, though he was visibly tense, obviously waiting for something. 

When Gwaine saw him turn in the mirror he whipped around, and grabbed his arm before he could reach for whatever he had to bludgeon Gwaine with. He hadn’t really expected Agravaine to give in so easily, but when Merlin burst out of the cubicle brandishing a bread knife from the bar kitchen, Agravaine held up his hands in immediate surrender. 

With the agreement of a head start, he handed over the tiny device that had been in his pocket. He’d thought Gwaine knew about his theft of the experimental bullshit—which, the first time he had tried to off Gwaine, had been activated by accident, causing the same day to repeat endlessly. Until, in a move as simple as staying up all night, Merlin turned the damn thing off. 

There were no cheers, no party when they went back into the bar proper. There were barely any customers, being a Tuesday night. Still, Gwaine couldn’t stop grinning as he slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to his temple. “I bloody well love you,” he grinned, sincere. “Marry me.”

Merlin did a double-take that would have been hilarious if Gwaine hadn’t realised in the same second what he’d said and that he’d meant it. “I, er…didn’t have you down for the type,” Merlin said, awkwardly, with a delicate blush on his high cheekbones. 

“Nothing like being stuck reliving the same shite day to make a man less afraid of commitment.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Oh go on then,” he said, with his own matching grin. 

Gwaine was woken by the heavy rain on the glass of his bedroom window. His head felt…fine. There was no alarm. He didn’t need one, not having a job to get up for. He probably wouldn’t have set one anyway, after bringing Merlin back. 

“Morning, husband to be,” he rumbled, sleepy and content as he rolled over on top of the warm body beside him. 

Merlin just groaned, burying himself further into Gwaine’s duvet. “What time is it? What day is it?”

Gwaine couldn’t help yet another smile as he checked his phone. “It’s Wednesday.”