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There were three things Gwaine liked.
Having fun.
Women.
And alcohol.
Well, that's a lie. Not the alcohol part, he loves alcohol, and the women part is only partially true. Honestly, he's pretty open-minded when it comes to that, and he won't deny that he's been looking at Percival differently lately.
He doesn't deny the fun part either. What's the point of being alive if you can't enjoy it? No, rather, it's the order of things, and to be a little more specific.
His list of priorities is:
His friends.
Alcohol.
And having fun, because he's not a miserable bastard like a certain princess.
When it comes to his friends, he admits he's a little overprotective, which is why, when he starts noticing the dark circles under Merlin's eyes and exhaustion taking over his body—the only person he would actually call his best friend, and the person he owes everything good in his life to—he decides it's time to take matters into his own hands.
And what better way than taking him out for a drink?
Now, before anyone judges him, he's not just an alcoholic looking for any excuse to drink.
Well, yes, he is, but when it comes to his friends, he's a little more serious about it than that.
The thing is, Merlin has a reputation for being an alcoholic, but Gwaine has never actually seen him in a tavern. In fact, neither have the tavern owners, and Merlin himself has said that he doesn't like alcohol.
He also knows Merlin keeps secrets, and he always seems as though the fate of the kingdom rests on his shoulders, which is ridiculous, right? So taking him out for a drink seemed sensible.
His plan was to get Merlin to drink enough mead to calm him down and relax, but he couldn't do much when Merlin decided he had other plans by downing four pints of beer.
Now, as mentioned before, Merlin isn't a frequent drinker. After the first pint, he was already flushed. After the second, relaxed.
By the fourth, completely drunk.
"Gwaine... Have I ever told you how pretty your hair is? Seriously, it's so pretty, like—like really pretty."
"Merlin, mate, thank you, but I think it's time to get you to bed."
Merlin was slumped over the counter, his fifth beer in his hand. His eyes were half-closed, and he looked a little out of it.
"Noooo."
"Yeeees, before you spill your drink on someone, or throw up all over yourself, because I love you and all, but I'm not cleaning up your vomit."
Merlin muttered something under his breath.
"What?"
"I'm cursed," he muttered, more clearly this time.
"Don't be so dramatic. You're a little clumsy, yes, but you're not cursed."
"At least Freya was able to get rid of her curse. Of course, she died in my arms, but she got free of it. I want to stop killing people. I hate destiny. I don't want my destiny," Merlin said.
"What?"
"She—she died today, you know? I mean, not today. A year ago today. But I miss her... I miss her so much."
Oh...
That explained everything. Why he sometimes seemed to be looking for ghosts, the way he looked at certain things with longing and nostalgia, and how he seemed to avoid certain places.
"I... I'm so sorry for your loss."
"It's okay. Arthur was the one who killed her, not you. You have nothing to apologize for."
What?
"What do you mean by that?" He could feel anger beginning to rise in his chest, but he focused on keeping a friendly expression.
"I don't blame him, you know? I would have—no, actually, I wouldn't have done the same, but I understand it... but I'm still sad."
"Merlin, focus. Why did he kill her?"
"She was a druid... a cursed druid. Didn't I tell you? She was raped and killed her rapist, but the bastard's mother was a witch and cursed her... making her turn into a bloodthirsty monster every night. I still loved her though. She was so kind..."
"I—mate... why are you comparing yourself to her?"
"Because we were the same."
"Oh my God... did someone...?"
"Yes."
"God, I'm so sorry—"
"Yes... I was rejected too, and practically cast out of my home. And I have my own curse."
Gwaine sighed in relief briefly. For a second, he had thought someone had touched Merlin and—
Thank God that wasn't it.
"Mate, uh—what curse?"
Merlin stared into the distance again, leaving his half-full beer untouched.
"I was going to run away with her, you know? Tell destiny to go to hell. I loved her, and for a moment I thought I'd be free... that I could leave with her and live by a lake, surrounded by mountains, with strawberry bushes and a couple of cows..."
Gwaine stayed silent. It was obvious Merlin was affected. There were tears at the corners of his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
"And to think I only knew her for a couple of days. But it was true love. It sounds stupid, but those were the happiest days I've ever had here in Camelot. For once, I thought about my future. I thought about starting a family and leaving my stupid destiny behind."
"What is this destiny thing?"
"I'm bound to a destiny... I've been since before I was born. I didn't know it before, but the evidence is undeniable."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes."
"Like what?" He figured that if he could prove Merlin wasn't bound to destiny, then maybe he'd relax.
"...I've always had special gifts. Gifts that would get me burned at the stake if anyone found out about them. And when the first thing you see on your first day in Camelot is an execution, the only thing you want is to leave, but I had nowhere to go..."
Oof. That sounded like a warm welcome.
"When I tried to sleep that first night, a voice in my head wouldn't let me. For hours and hours it bothered me until I finally got fed up the next day, and it led me to his cell."
Okay, this was getting creepy very quickly.
"Kilgarrah was a fucking bastard, a miserable cryptid who told me my destiny, and although I told him to go to hell after he gave me a horrible fate, I can't deny that his knowledge of the future isn't false."
"Knowledge of the future?"
"He predicted a lot of things to me, you know? How do you think I've kept Arthur alive? He told me Morgana was a witch and that she would turn evil."
"Maybe he suspected it."
"Months before she even awakened her powers, and long before she became evil."
"Ah."
"He also predicted that the druid boy would kill Arthur, and while at first he thanked me for saving him, I made a mistake, and now he hates Arthur to death. I wouldn't be surprised if he killed him at the first opportunity."
"God..."
"And he predicted many more things that I'd rather not think about."
"...That's really hard, mate. How about I buy you one last drink and take you home?"
"Okay."
"That's the spirit."
"Hey, Gwaine?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. You're a great friend."
Two drinks later, Gwaine was dragging a very unconscious Merlin and throwing him onto his bed, where he slept soundly until the next morning.
And if, when he woke up with a horrible hangover, Merlin couldn't remember anything he'd told Gwaine, then Gwaine had no reason to tell him.
But he did know that from now on, he would make an effort to be there for Merlin.
And to make him tell him those things while sober.