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It was well known that Merlin blushed rather easily when the knights voiced which women they had recently bedded. Gwaine always used this to his advantage, even voicing some of the sordid details of the encounters with his lovers. Of course with his kind nature and no cues at all that he was bedding anyone, they all assumed Merlin had never laid with anyone.
Of course that led to nights like this one at the tavern, Gwaine ordering their drinks with fervor. “So how would you lot like to hear some of the tavern songs I’ve picked up on my travels?”
Percival grinned. Gwaine always had the best stories. Leon however, frowned. “I hardly think you should be singing tavern songs in the red cloak of Camelot, Gwaine. It’s a bad example.”
“Right then,” Gwaine said, shucking the cloak and working out of his mail underneath with little wriggles of his hips. Merlin finally took pity and helped him get the heavy material over his head and out of sight. Gwaine took off his red gambeson next, and the lot was then hidden under the table. He retied his belt over his thin tunic with his money hidden away to pay for drinks later. “Where was I? Right then. I remembered this perfect song on patrol the other day, and I thought you might appreciate this one, boys.”
“A dragon has come to our village today.
We’ve asked him to leave, but he won’t go away.
Now he’s talked to our king and they worked out a deal.
No homes will he burn and no crops will he steal.
Now there is but one catch, we dislike it a bunch.
Twice a year he invites him a virgin to lunch.
Well, we’ve no other choice, so the deal we’ll respect.
But we can’t help but wonder and pause to reflect.”
Several patrons turned to look at Gwaine, who only took the attention, and his drink, in stride. Leon was already hiding his face in the bottom of his glass.
“Do virgins taste better than those who are not?
Are they salty, or sweeter, more juicy or what?
Do you savor them slowly? Gulp them down on the spot?
Do virgins taste better than those who are not?”
Percival, bless him, had started banging a beat on the table with his empty tankard, laughing as Gwaine got more into the song, several of the other customers present joining if they recognized the tune. Gwaine grinned, and accepted another tankard from someone he passed as he sang his song. Up on the table he went, to get the attention of everyone who wasn’t enraptured. Merlin was cringing away. Good. He must have gotten that this song reminded Gwaine of him.
“Now we’ve found a solution, it works out so neat,
If you insist on nothing but virgins to eat.
No more will our number ever grow small,
We’ll simply make sure there’s no virgins at all!”
And as Gwaine wrapped up the song with a flourish of his hand, he drank down the rest of his drink and accepted Percival’s hand down from their table. Even Elyan was laughing, as he was normally put off by it. Smart Elyan had already figured out Gwaine’s intentions. He always did like Gwen’s brother.
“If this gets back to Arthur, I’m not taking the blame,” Leon said, his fair face a bit reddened. But if it was from drink or embarrassment, Gwaine couldn’t tell.
Merlin just shook his head and offered gossip about the ladies at court that he’d heard the other servants talking about earlier in the day. Duly distracted, time went by as Gwaine probably consumed more drink than was wise.
“We need another song!” Gwaine stood and raised his cup. He drained it in one fell swoop before he started up another tune.
“Now listen my children, a story you’ll hear.
A song I will sing you; ‘twill fill you with cheer.
A charming young maiden was wed in the Fall.
She married a man who had no balls at all.”
Elyan knew this one, and added his voice. Leon didn’t even bother telling him to remove his cloak and mail. There was no point. The two of them finished the song with alcohol laden voices.
Gwaine couldn’t help but emphasise the last chorus with, “No testicles whatsoever!”
The entire tavern was roaring with laughter where moments before it had been good natured cheer and men singing along.
More time flew by with everyone sharing their favorite songs until it grew so late that some had needed to go back to their own homes. When most had left, and Gwaine swayed on the table, he took another swig, and looked down at his comrades at his feet.
“If all of our laddies were skins of fine wine,
I’d go after yours once I’d finished off mine.”
Merlin, who had drunk the least of them all evening, stood up then. “All right, and on that note, I think it’s time we all got back to the castle. Gwaine, get down from there.”
Gwaine looked up for a moment, and then back down. He shook his head. “No thanks, rather like it up here.”
Merlin’s eyes narrowed. “Percival, Leon, get Gwaine off of the table.” If any of the knights questioned Merlin, they didn’t show it, and Gwaine, much to his discontent, was finally off of his stage for the evening.
As Percival’s arms kept him upright, Gwaine couldn’t help but look up at him and sing another verse.
“If laddies were knights in search of romances
I’d bed the ones with the longest lances.”
Percival’s eyes rose in such a way that Gwaine couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up out of his chest, eyes squeezed shut with the force. Then Merlin was suddenly there, taking his weight away from Percival and his warm chest. “Oh, goodbye Perce,” he mumbled as he waved his goodbyes to the other knights. He’d missed quite a bit of conversation this night, it seemed, for Merlin was looking at him as if he’d grown a third head and said something else that Gwaine didn’t really hear. So in his inebriated state, he replied with another part of his limericks.
“If laddies were clouds all fluffy and gray,
I’d be the wind and I’d blow them all day.”
Merlin’s reply was a choked laugh. His face was red, but Gwaine was sure this time it was because he was holding in a much larger amount of laughter than he’d let escape. Then one of those long-fingered hands was suddenly carding through his hair, and Gwaine lost all sense of time. His entire world boiled down to the fingers wrapped up in his hair, tugging occasionally, and upon the touch upon his side that led him unerringly to his more than adequate room in the quiet of the castle.
Suddenly the hands were gone, and Gwaine opened his eyes, only to find himself horizontal on his bed, boots already tugged off. Merlin hovered above him, hands on either side of Gwaine’s head, studying him like he’d find something wanting. He’d wanted those blue eyes on him all night, but to have their undivided attention on him now was a little overwhelming.
“Your mouth has been running all night, but is there truth to those words,” Merlin asked softly, trailing a finger over Gwaine’s bearded jaw.
Gwaine shuddered at the gentle touch. “I’d never go with a man for his money, just find me one who will fuck like a bunny,” he answered with a grin, even as his eyes blurred the perfect image of the man above him.
Gwaine never got another chance to speak before Merlin’s lips were upon his, and Gwaine would be damned. Merlin was good at this. When he attempted to voice his surprise, a tongue swept in to claim his mouth in a way that happened so rarely, all Gwaine could do was let out a moan and attempt to keep up.
Merlin pulled away almost immediately after Gwaine’s hand tugged at his hair to keep him there. “You’re so drunk,” Merlin said, and even in his state, Gwaine could see the smile that stretched along Merlin’s face.
“Yes,” Gwaine replied as he tried to tug Merlin down to him again.
“No,” Merlin said. “You’re drunk. It was a mistake to do that now.” Merlin’s fingers stroked through Gwaine’s hair and lingered on his neck. Through the swaying of the room around them, Gwaine could tell Merlin held back.
“Fine, then in the…. in the morning, I’ll prove I still want it,” Gwaine slurred around his suddenly thick tongue. He relaxed further on the bed, sleep tainting the edges of his vision so that his world focused down to a single point: Merlin.
“If you remember in the morning,” Merlin whispered as if Gwaine couldn’t hear him, and for all Merlin knew, Gwaine hadn’t, because his eyes had slid closed. The bed moved under him, and Gwaine blamed the ale, until he felt Merlin’s fingers still caressing his hair, and a warmth pressed against his side. He moved slowly into the heat, taking in the scent before sleep finally claimed him, breath warm on Merlin’s neck.