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Summary
So maybe they were closer than the average close friends- tied together in a secret guarded with their lives- but that was all the speculations were: convenient coverups.
They were close, trusted each other with their lives, not deterred by the light-hearted jesting their implied relationship caused, and secure in where they stood with each other even with the kissy noises sent their way when they stumbled into the armoury dishevelled from sprinting all the way from the forest back to the castle in time for Lancelot’s patrol shift.
Which was of course when, a couple of weeks later, everything they considered normal got thrown around again; because it wouldn’t be Lancelot and Merlin’s lives, wouldn’t be Camelot, if anything ever worked out in a way that didn’t make them question everything they had grown familiar with.
Or: Merlin pretends to give Lancelot a blow job to get away with their magic-mission-sneaking. It has an unintended side-effect: Lancelot can’t stop thinking about it. Merlin fixes it; Gwaine won't let them live it down anyway.