Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin could feel the moment coming.

It had been brewing all day, building like storm pressure behind his temples, a weight against the back of his teeth, a crawl beneath his skin.

And of course, it was Gwaine’s fault.

It always was.

It wasn’t just the usual snide comments or reckless antics. Gwaine had focused on Merlin today—hovering, poking, needling, smiling in that infuriating, devastating way.

There was a heat behind the teasing, something intentional.

Something targeted.

He’d followed Merlin to the training grounds, lounged dramatically on the grass, and shouted theatrical commentary on Merlin’s gait (“Swanlike!” “Regal!” “Truly a marvel of skinny-legged nobility!”).

He'd snuck into the kitchens when Merlin was helping the cook sort herbs, swapped the labels on three jars, and somehow convinced the entire staff Merlin had a basil allergy.

When Merlin confronted him, Gwaine only widened his eyes and said, “I would never endanger your delicate constitution.”

But now?

Now he was leaning far too close as they stood in one of the quieter stone corridors near the servant quarters, where Merlin had hoped—foolishly—for a moment of peace.

“I’m just saying,” Gwaine murmured, voice like silk and honey, “you’ve got a very expressive forehead.”

Merlin blinked. “What.”

“Right there.” Gwaine pointed, his finger almost touching skin. “Wrinkle line. Classic brooding. Very mysterious. Very warlock.”

Merlin stepped back, face a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re blushing,” Gwaine said, clearly delighted.

Merlin did not dignify that with an answer. He turned on his heel.

Gwaine followed—of course he did—hands in his pockets, smile like he owned the whole world and Merlin with it.

“I mean, think about it,” he went on. “Maybe you do like me annoying you. Maybe it’s secretly thrilling. Maybe you lie awake at night, thinking, ‘Oh no, that rogue knight looked at me again, what shall I do—’”

“Gwaine.”

“—‘If only he’d pin me to the wall and kiss me until I forget my own name—’”

“Gwaine.”

“‘But alas, I am but a humble servant with magical destiny and beautiful eyes—’”

That was it.

Merlin turned.

His magic flared behind his eyes, warm and golden, rising not with fury, but something hotter.

Rougher.

Inevitable.

“Forbearn.”

The word was quiet—almost gentle.

And Gwaine never even saw it coming.

One second he was smirking, mouth half-open with another teasing quip—and the next, he was airborne.

It wasn’t a hard throw.

Merlin wouldn’t do that.

But Gwaine was lifted. His feet left the floor with a suddenness that stole his breath, and his back hit the wall—not violently, but firmly.

Held.

His arms flew wide and stuck, invisible bonds locking them flat against the stone. His legs dangled slightly, toes just brushing the floor. He couldn’t move.

He blinked.

Hard.

“What the—”

And then he froze.

Merlin stood before him, breathing slowly, eyes still faintly gold.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.

Gwaine’s chest rose and fell rapidly, every part of his body suddenly aware. Of tension. Of stillness. Of heat.

Of magic.

Not just a rumour. Not just suspicion. Real. Alive.

Coiled and crackling in the air between them.

And it was holding him.

Merlin was holding him.

With his will.

With his words.

With his power.

“Oh,” Gwaine said.

Then again, a little fainter. “Oh.”

Merlin’s shoulders jerked. “Shit.”

The gold vanished from his eyes, and he took a step forward. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t going to actually—Gwaine, are you—?”

But Gwaine didn’t respond right away.

He was too busy feeling.

His breath had caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat. His heartbeat thundered like battle drums, and he swore he could feel the press of every invisible strand pinning him in place.

He strained slightly against it—not trying to escape, just testing.

He couldn’t move.

Not even a twitch.

Not unless Merlin allowed it.

And Gods, there was something devastating in that. Something he hadn’t expected. Something that lit a fire deep in his belly and set his cheeks aflame.

“Gwaine?” Merlin was panicking now. “Say something, are you—”

Gwaine looked down—well, down-ish, considering he was stuck a few inches off the floor—and blinked again.

Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curled.

“Oh,” he said, voice gone lower. Rougher. “I really liked that.”

Merlin stared at him.

Horrified.

“You what?”

“That—” Gwaine grinned wide now, eyes blazing.

“That was fantastic. You just—boom! I’m up! Can’t move! Magic everywhere! You’re glowing.”

He made a delighted noise in his throat. “Merlin, I think I’m in love.”

Merlin groaned, dragging both hands down his face. “No. No, no, no.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Gwaine tugged at the invisible restraints playfully. “You’ve got to do that more often.”

“I’m not doing it again!”

“Why not?” Gwaine wiggled his shoulders against the wall. “You didn’t even hurt me! I mean—look!”

He wriggled again. “Perfectly snug. Very secure.”

“You are infuriating!”

“And you are spectacular.” Gwaine laughed. “Truly. That was—Merlin, you’ve been holding back on me.”

“You are the worst man I have ever met,” Merlin said, pointing accusingly.

“You’ve met Uther and Morgana. That’s not fair.”

“Gwaine, I just pinned you to a wall with magic, and your reaction is to get turned on?”

“Obviously!” Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows. “Have you seen yourself? Tall, glowing, all dark and wrathful? That was hot.”

Merlin made a strangled sound.

“Just admit it,” Gwaine said, his tone gentling now. “You liked it too.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t!”

“You so did.”

“I’m never doing this again.”

Gwaine gave him a wide, slow grin. “Then I’ll just have to push you harder next time.”

Merlin actually stamped his foot. “You’re impossible!”

“Your eyes are glowing again.”

Merlin cursed and turned to flee, muttering a string of Old Language under his breath. Only pausing for a moment to make sure Gwaine was dropped gently.

—————————————

Gwaine found him hours later in his room, hunched on the end of the bed, face in his hands.

“Still blushing?”

“Go away.”

Gwaine shut the door behind him. “I mean it. That was incredible.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“You were angry.”

“I was at the end of my tether.”

Gwaine approached, slow and careful now. Less teasing. More sincere.

He knelt down in front of Merlin, resting his arms on the other man’s knees. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Merlin blinked down at him. “You’re apologising?”

Gwaine shrugged. “You thought I’d hate it. That you hurt me.”

“I… didn’t know what you’d do,” Merlin said softly. “I just—snapped. You push and push and sometimes I just can’t—”

Gwaine leaned closer, voice quiet. “You can always stop me. Always.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You didn’t.” Gwaine smiled faintly. “I promise. Not even a bruise.”

Merlin swallowed. “Still. It scared me. How easy it was.”

“You’re powerful.”

“I’m dangerous.”

Gwaine tilted his head. “And I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Gwaine leaned his forehead against Merlin’s. “But I do.”

Silence stretched between them. Warm. Real.

Merlin closed his eyes. “You’re still insufferable.”

“I know.”

“You’re going to push me until I do it again.”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re the worst.”

Gwaine smiled. “But I’m yours.”

Merlin opened his eyes and stared into the impossibly kind ones before him.

Then, slowly, he kissed him.

Chapter Text

Merlin had meant for the kiss to be quick.

A soft press of lips, a punctuation mark, a reckless moment to shut Gwaine up before he could say something even more unbearable.

It wasn’t.

Gwaine made a low, pleased noise that vibrated against Merlin’s mouth, and suddenly his hands were curling around the back of Merlin’s neck, pulling him closer.

Merlin’s breath hitched. He’d expected teasing; instead he found warmth—steady, grounding—and a sincerity that made the floor tilt under him.

When they finally parted, Gwaine didn’t step back. His forehead rested against Merlin’s, and his voice was barely more than a murmur.

“Dangerous, huh?”

Merlin swallowed. “Still think so.”

“Good,” Gwaine said, and there was a glint in his eyes that wasn’t entirely about magic or mischief.
“Means you’ll keep me on my toes.”

Merlin tried for a scoff, but it came out softer than intended. “You don’t need any help with that.”

“Maybe not. But I like it when it’s you.”

The words sat between them, heavier than the banter had ever been. Merlin’s instinct was to retreat, to duck his head and find some excuse to vanish—but Gwaine’s hands tightened fractionally, keeping him anchored.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” Merlin said at last, surprising himself with the roughness of it.

“I’m not,” Gwaine replied instantly. “I’m only afraid of you running.”

Merlin’s chest constricted. “I’m not—”

“You are.” Gwaine’s smile gentled. “But I’ll be here when you come back.”

For once, Merlin didn’t have a retort. He just… looked at him. At the insufferable, ridiculous knight who could laugh at danger and then turn around and say something like that without blinking.

And maybe—just maybe—Merlin thought he could get used to it.

Even if Gwaine did keep asking him to be magically slammed against walls.

Chapter Text

It had been days since the incident.

Days since Merlin had fully revealed himself in a flare of magic and Gwaine had reacted in the most Gwaine way possible—delight, fascination, and entirely inappropriate enthusiasm.

Merlin had half expected the knight to let it drop after a while.

He had been wrong.

Now, in the dim gold of late afternoon, Merlin sat hunched at the small desk in his chambers, quill scratching over parchment.

He was trying—trying—to copy out some healing incantations for Gaius. The air smelled faintly of dried rosemary from the bundle hanging by the door.

The room was quiet, save for the sound of his quill and the faint rustle of Gwaine’s tunic against the chair as he leaned—again—over Merlin’s shoulder.

Not leaned politely, mind you.

No, Gwaine was practically draped across him like an overly affectionate cat.

One forearm rested along the top of the chair, his other hand idly toying with a stray curl at the back of Merlin’s neck. His chin hovered perilously close to Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin didn’t look up. “You’re heavy.”

“I’m supportive,” Gwaine said in that deep, amused drawl.

“You’re a nuisance.”

“I’m enhancing your concentration.”

“You’re breathing in my ear.”

Gwaine grinned. “Am I?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, shifting just enough to dislodge him. “You’re trying to get me to do it again, and it’s not going to work.”

“Do what?” Gwaine’s voice was all mock innocence. “Merely keeping you company, mate.”

“You’re hanging off me like laundry on a line,” Merlin muttered. “You know what.”

“Ohhh,” Gwaine said slowly, drawing out the sound like it was a fine wine. “You mean the part where you pinned me to a wall with a thought and looked like an avenging god?”

Merlin’s hand tightened on the quill. “That was an accident.”

“Mhm.” Gwaine’s grin tilted. “You enjoyed it.”

Merlin dipped his quill, ignoring him.

Minutes passed in a dance of light touches and insistent proximity. Gwaine brushed imaginary dust from Merlin’s sleeve. Adjusted the chair as if to “help.” Tugged at the back of Merlin’s shirt until it was straight, then promptly mussed it again.

Merlin clenched his jaw.

Gwaine smirked.

But after another ten minutes of failing to provoke so much as a golden flicker in those blue eyes, Gwaine leaned back, expression shifting.

“Alright,” he said, voice dropping. “Different approach.”

Merlin stilled. “Different—what?”

Gwaine circled round the desk, moving with a kind of deliberate ease that made Merlin’s pulse skip. He didn’t stop until he was leaning back against the desk directly in front of Merlin, arms folded, one eyebrow arched.

He didn’t touch. He didn’t poke. He just looked.

Merlin’s quill stilled.

“Maybe,” Gwaine said slowly, “instead of trying to annoy it out of you, I should give you a reason.”

Merlin swallowed. “A reason?”

“You know.” Gwaine’s eyes glinted. “Make you want to.”

Merlin hated—hated—how his breath hitched at that. “That’s—”

Gwaine bent slightly, enough that their knees brushed. “It’s not like you don’t think about it.”

Merlin’s mouth went dry. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stalling.” Gwaine leaned closer, lowering his voice until it was warm velvet. “But sooner or later, Merlin, you’re going to give in. Not because I’ve pushed you there… but because you want to see me up against that wall again.”

Merlin’s ears burned. “Not happening.”

Gwaine just smiled, slow and knowing. “We’ll see.”

He pushed away from the desk, leaving Merlin sitting there—heart pounding, magic humming under his skin—knowing damn well that the knight had just switched from annoying problem to dangerous temptation.

And worse… it might work.

He…wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Behind him, Gwaine turns slowly and pauses in the doorway. His smirk melts into something solder, contemplative. Before Merlin could turn and see him however, he was gone.

Chapter Text

It happened two nights later.

Merlin had been up far too late, his desk covered in a messy sprawl of parchment, half-drunk tea, and candles burned low.

The tower room was quiet save for the occasional crackle of the wick. Outside, Camelot slept under a pale slice of moon.

The door creaked open.

Merlin didn’t look up. “I’m busy.”

“That’s fine.” Gwaine’s voice was unusually even, without its usual mockery. “I’ll just stand here.”

Merlin glanced over. The knight was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed — but his expression was softer than Merlin had ever seen it. No grin. No sparkle of mischief. Just… Gwaine. Watching him.

“You’re not here to steal my bread or trip me into a wall?” Merlin asked cautiously.

“Nope.”

Merlin frowned. “Then what?”

Gwaine stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I wanted to thank you.”

Merlin blinked. “For what?”

“That day,” Gwaine said simply. “When you… you know.” His hands made a vague gesture, somewhere between a shove and an explosion. “Pinned me.”

Merlin groaned and turned back to his parchment. “We’re not talking about that again.”

“Yes, we are.” Gwaine moved closer, slow and steady. “You’ve been dodging me since. Not just because you’re embarrassed — because you’re afraid.”

Merlin’s shoulders tensed. “I’m not—”

“You think you’re dangerous.”

Merlin’s pen stilled. “…I am dangerous.”

Gwaine shook his head. “You’re dangerous to people who deserve it. Not to me.”

Merlin glanced up, and there it was — that quiet intensity in Gwaine’s eyes that stripped away all the armour of humour and charm.

“You know what I felt, Merlin? That day?” Gwaine stepped into his space, slow enough that Merlin could have stopped him at any moment. “Safe. Like nothing could touch me. Because you had me. Completely.”

Merlin’s breath caught. “That’s not—”

“It is,” Gwaine said, voice low now. “You think I want you to do it again just for fun?”

“Yes,” Merlin snapped automatically.

Gwaine’s mouth quirked faintly. “Alright, maybe a little. But mostly? I want you to trust yourself. To trust me.”

Merlin opened his mouth — to argue, to deflect — but the words tangled. And in the silence that followed, something in his chest shifted. Loosened.

He stood.

Gwaine didn’t move.

Merlin stepped forward until there was barely an inch between them. His magic rose in his veins, not wild this time but deliberate, answering him like an old friend. His voice, when it came, was a soft command that curled in the air like smoke.

“Forbearn.”

Gwaine inhaled sharply — not in surprise this time, but in anticipation. His feet left the floor in one smooth lift, his back pressing to the wall with a satisfying thud. His arms spread, pinned invisibly.
Merlin stepped closer, each movement controlled, calm — until his boots touched the tips of Gwaine’s dangling ones.

He looked up, meeting the knight’s eyes with steady, gold-lit focus.

“This,” Merlin said, “isn’t a game.”

“I know,” Gwaine murmured, his grin slow and reverent all at once. “That’s why I like it.”

Merlin’s gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before snapping back. “You’re still insufferable.”

“Maybe. But I’m yours, right?”

Merlin’s magic tightened, just enough for Gwaine to feel the hold in his ribs, in his wrists.

He swallowed hard — not in fear, but in something sharper, warmer.

And Merlin let him hang there a moment longer — not because he had to, but because, for the first time, he wanted to.

Chapter Text

Merlin didn’t mean to kiss him.

It just… happened.

One moment, Gwaine was suspended there in the quiet golden glow of his magic, looking at him like Merlin was both the sun and the storm.

The next, Merlin was stepping in, tilting his head, and pressing his mouth to Gwaine’s.

It wasn’t rough.

It wasn’t meant to take or to conquer. It was careful, a soft press of lips that lingered like a held breath.

And Gwaine… Gwaine went perfectly still, not because he was bound, but because he didn’t want to move. He leaned into it, but he never once attempted to move his body.

When Merlin finally drew back, Gwaine’s eyes were half-lidded, his breath warm between them. “You know what I like about this?” he asked softly.

Merlin swallowed. “You’re about to tell me, aren’t you?”

Gwaine’s mouth quirked, but only for a second before he sobered. “It’s the trust.”

Merlin blinked. “The… what?”

“The trust,” Gwaine repeated, voice steady. “Right now, with a thought, you could probably kill me. Snap my neck, stop my heart, whatever you wanted. And you don’t. You won’t. You’re holding me here and it’s… gentle. Warm. Like I’m not just safe, I’m yours to keep safe.”

Merlin’s chest tightened, magic humming under his skin in a way that wasn’t about power at all.

“You have all of me right now,” Gwaine went on. “And instead of using it to hurt me, you’re… careful. You don’t even realise how careful.”

“Gwaine…”

His eyes softened. “It feels good, Merlin. Not the ‘can’t move’ part—well, alright, maybe that too—but mostly knowing you’d rather hold me than harm me.”

Merlin’s throat worked. “You trust me that much?”

“Always have,” Gwaine said, like it was obvious.

Merlin furrowed his brows and looked at him for a long moment. Gwaine seemed to realise what he was thinking and let out a soft huff of laughter.

“The rest of the teasing? The poking? The hanging off you like a lovesick drunk?” He smirked faintly. “Maybe that’s just so you won’t notice I’m actually a bit mad about you.”

Merlin let out a breath that was almost a laugh—half disbelief, half something deeper. “You’re telling me all that ridiculousness is… what? A cover?”

“Better a fool in your orbit than nothing at all,” Gwaine said, and for once, there was no humour in it. Just truth.

Merlin stared at him, at the ease in his posture despite the magic pinning him, at the steady trust radiating from every inch of him. And for the first time, he let himself wonder how much of Gwaine’s swagger had been armour, and how much had been an attempt to get closer without giving himself away.

Merlin’s magic loosened slightly, letting Gwaine’s toes touch the floor but still holding him there. “You really are impossible,” Merlin murmured.

“Maybe,” Gwaine said, leaning in as far as the bonds allowed. “But I’m yours, and you’re mine, whether you say it out loud or not.”

Merlin didn’t say it out loud.

Not yet.

He just kissed him again.

Chapter Text

The gold faded from Merlin’s eyes in slow, careful waves, like sunlight dimming through a cloudbank.

The invisible threads of magic holding Gwaine slackened, loosening in increments Merlin could feel down to the marrow.

It would have been easy to let go all at once. To let gravity take over and leave Gwaine to his own balance.

But Merlin didn’t want “easy.”

Not with this.

So the hold eased bit by bit — enough for Gwaine’s boots to fully meet the floor, enough for his shoulders to settle back against the wall without the support of unseen force.

The magic remained for a few heartbeats longer, like fingers reluctant to release a grip, and then it was gone entirely.

The silence it left behind felt louder than before.

Gwaine stood there, exactly as Merlin had left him, only now with nothing binding him but choice.

His arms didn’t drop to his sides. His weight didn’t shift.

He just… stayed.

Merlin’s own chest rose and fell with steady, deliberate breaths, the quiet rush of his pulse loud in his ears.

He half-expected Gwaine to immediately step away with some flippant remark — “Not bad, Merlin,” or “Didn’t even leave a mark!” — but the knight only looked at him.

Merlin’s throat tightened. “You can move now.”

“I know,” Gwaine said, voice low.

“You’re… not.”

Gwaine tilted his head just slightly, a curl of hair falling forward against his temple. “Maybe I like where I am.”

It was a simple enough statement, but it landed with the weight of a confession.

Merlin’s magic stirred instinctively in response, not surging, but shifting like an animal lifting its head, curious.

“You could walk away,” Merlin said. He wasn’t sure if it came out as challenge or plea.

“I could,” Gwaine agreed easily. “But then I wouldn’t be here with you.”

Merlin swallowed hard, feeling his fingertips itch with the urge to reach out. “You’re not still… waiting for me to…”

“Pin me again?” Gwaine’s mouth quirked. “No. I mean, if you wanted to…”

“Gwaine.”

“Alright, alright,” the knight said, but the grin softened into something quieter. “No, I’m not waiting for that. I’m just—” He hesitated, and Merlin realised it wasn’t a pause for effect. It was genuine searching. “I’m just staying.”

Merlin didn’t move, and neither did Gwaine. It was as if stepping into motion would shatter something fragile they’d spun between them.

Eventually, Gwaine took a slow breath and shifted forward — just enough that Merlin could feel the whisper of space between them close by half.

The scent of leather and faint smoke clung to him, underscored by something sharper, cleaner. Soap, maybe, from a late-night visit to the baths.

Merlin’s fingers curled loosely at his sides. “You’re very close.”

“That’s because you’re very far away,” Gwaine countered, and Merlin caught the faintest glint of amusement behind the softness in his eyes.

“I’m standing right here.”

“You know what I mean.”

Merlin did. And yet— “Do I?”

“Yes,” Gwaine said simply, without the armour of a joke. “Because you’re doing that thing again.”

Merlin frowned faintly. “What thing?”

“The thing where you look at me like I matter and then pretend you didn’t.”

Merlin’s heart stumbled over itself. He opened his mouth, but the words tangled somewhere between his chest and his tongue.

Gwaine’s gaze gentled further. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Merlin. Not when we’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… us.”

It was infuriatingly vague. And yet Merlin understood him perfectly.

Without thinking — or maybe because he’d been thinking about it for far too long — Merlin lifted a hand.

It hovered for a breath before settling against Gwaine’s jaw, the rough warmth of stubble catching against his palm.

Gwaine’s eyes went half-lidded, leaning into the touch without hesitation.

“I could’ve hurt you,” Merlin murmured, the words pulled from somewhere deep and unguarded.

“You didn’t.”

“I could have.”

“I know.” Gwaine’s voice stayed steady. “That’s the point.”

Merlin blinked.

Gwaine’s smile was faint, almost wry. “It’s not just that I like the feeling of being held still. It’s that I chose it. I chose you. I knew you could’ve done anything in that moment — and I trusted you to do exactly what you did. Hold me. Keep me there. And you did. Warm hands on a dangerous weapon, Merlin.”

Merlin exhaled, a slow, uneven thing. “You make it sound noble.”

“It is noble. At least to me.”

The quip Merlin might have made — something about Gwaine’s questionable definitions of “noble” — withered before it reached his lips. Instead, he let his thumb trace along the edge of Gwaine’s cheekbone, feeling the knight’s pulse flutter faintly beneath.

“You tease because you don’t want people to see this,” Merlin said before he could stop himself.

Gwaine’s brows lifted. “This?”

“This part of you. The quiet part. The one that trusts too much and means it. You make yourself the fool so no one notices when you’re being the knight.”

Gwaine tilted his head slightly, considering him. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not. It’s just…” Merlin’s voice trailed, and for once, he didn’t try to fill the silence.

Gwaine broke it with a small, lopsided smile. “And you hide behind being the serious one. The servant. The one no one notices. Makes it easier to keep the rest of yourself safe.”

Merlin’s chest ached at the quiet accuracy. “…Perhaps.”

“Guess we’re both cowards, then.”

Merlin huffed a faint laugh. “Perhaps.”

“But here,” Gwaine said, softer now, “we don’t have to be.”

——————————————

Merlin let the magic that had been humming in the back of his bones settle fully, releasing any lingering hold on Gwaine. But to his surprise — and maybe not surprise at all — Gwaine didn’t step back.

Instead, the knight’s hands came up, resting light on Merlin’s waist, his thumbs brushing absently against the fabric of his shirt.

“See? No magic. Still here.”

Merlin found himself smiling despite the tightness in his chest. “I’d noticed.”

“Good.” Gwaine’s gaze held his without wavering. “Means you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

Merlin could have made a joke. Could have pretended the warmth settling low in his belly was irritation, not relief.

Instead, he simply said, “Alright.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an entire turning of the moon — just quiet, steady closeness.

No demands. No pushing. Only the slow realisation that neither of them actually wanted to move away.

——————————————

Eventually, Gwaine shifted just enough to glance toward the desk. “You were working on something before I rudely intruded, weren’t you?”

Merlin made a noncommittal noise. “It can wait.”

Gwaine’s grin was small but triumphant. “Good. Because I’m not leaving just yet.”

He guided them both toward the small table by the hearth, where the remains of Merlin’s earlier tea sat cooling. Without ceremony, he took the kettle, poured the last of it into Merlin’s cup, and then poured for himself.

They sat close — closer than necessary, shoulders touching — and drank in the comfortable quiet. Gwaine occasionally brushed his knee against Merlin’s, as though to check he was still there.

Merlin didn’t mind.

After a while, Gwaine glanced sideways. “You’re thinking very loudly.”

Merlin snorted. “You’d know, would you?”

“I know you.” Gwaine sipped his tea. “And I know when you’re trying to decide if you’ve made a terrible mistake or a very good choice.”

Merlin considered him for a long moment. “And which do you think it is?”

Gwaine smiled, slow and sure. “Definitely the second one.”

Merlin shook his head, but his lips curved despite himself. “Idiot.”

“Yours,” Gwaine said again, with the quiet certainty of a vow.

Merlin didn’t argue this time.

Chapter Text

For a while, they sat as they were: close, warm, sharing tea in the kind of quiet that didn’t feel like it needed filling.

The flicker from the hearth painted the edges of Gwaine’s hair in copper and gold, his posture loose but never leaning away.

Merlin’s mind, however, was far from still.

He’d been thinking about something ever since the moment in the wall — the way Gwaine had gone still, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

The way he’d looked at Merlin, not with fear, but with something almost… reverent. And the words he’d said earlier kept circling back: You’d rather hold me than harm me.

He could feel the thought growing in his chest, tugging at the corners of his control. A test, maybe.

Or a gift.

He set his cup down, the soft clink breaking the fire’s steady rhythm.

Gwaine glanced over. “What’s that look?”

“What look?” Merlin asked, but there was no real deflection in it.

“That one.” Gwaine leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “The ‘I’ve just had a thought and it might be trouble’ look.”

Merlin felt the faintest smile touch his lips. “Maybe it is.”

Gwaine’s brows rose. “Do I get to know what it is?”

“In a moment.”

He didn’t give Gwaine more time to press. Instead, Merlin let his focus settle inward, calling to the well of power that lived in the marrow of his bones. It answered instantly, warm and familiar, pooling behind his eyes until the world sharpened and brightened.

Gwaine’s own eyes widened as the gold flared. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just… watched.

Merlin didn’t look away. Slowly, deliberately, he murmured a spell, the words a gentle tumble in the Old Tongue.

The magic obeyed like silk sliding over skin. Gwaine made a startled sound as the world shifted under him — not sharply, not with force, but with a buoyant lift, as if some invisible tide had taken hold.

His body rose smoothly from the chair beside Merlin, borne up by threads of golden light that shimmered faintly in the fire’s glow.

His limbs hung loose in instinctive readiness, but there was no tension in him.

Just awe.

Merlin guided him carefully, the magic cradling Gwaine as though he weighed nothing at all. Then, with the same deliberate control, Merlin settled him sideways into his lap. One arm instinctively looped around Gwaine’s back, steadying him, while the knight’s legs draped comfortably over Merlin’s thigh.

The spell’s light faded, leaving only the warmth of Merlin’s body beneath him.

Gwaine blinked, clearly processing the shift from beside to in. “You—” He laughed once, breathless. “You just—”

“Yes,” Merlin said, a faint tilt to his lips.

“I was in a chair,” Gwaine continued, still sounding faintly stunned. “And now I’m—” He glanced down at himself, then up again. “In your lap.”

“That’s the general idea.”

There was a beat where Gwaine could have made it a joke. Could have spun some wildly inappropriate comment about positions and scandal. But he didn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, he let his head drop lightly to rest against Merlin’s shoulder. His voice, when it came, was quieter. “You really are something else, you know that?”

Merlin’s hand settled at the small of his back without thinking, fingers splayed in a loose, grounding hold. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Like it?” Gwaine gave a huff that was half laugh, half disbelief. “Merlin, I love it.”

He shifted slightly, finding a more comfortable angle, and Merlin could feel the way the knight’s body relaxed fully into his.

There was no hesitation, no wariness — just the easy, total weight of someone who had chosen to be exactly where they were.

“You could’ve set me down anywhere,” Gwaine murmured after a moment. “But you chose here.”

Merlin’s throat worked. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Merlin glanced down at him, at the lines of Gwaine’s face softened by the firelight. “Because I wanted you close. And because I can.”

Gwaine smiled against his shoulder, small but unshakable. “Best answer I’ve ever heard.”

They stayed like that — Gwaine content and warm in his lap, Merlin quietly marvelling at the fact that the man wasn’t already bouncing away in a flurry of jokes — and somewhere between the crackle of the hearth and the even sound of Gwaine’s breathing, Merlin realised something.

Maybe all the noise Gwaine made in the daylight wasn’t about getting a reaction. Maybe it was his way of asking for this — the quiet, the closeness, the knowledge that someone wanted him exactly where he was.

And Merlin… Merlin could give him that.

Chapter Text

The fire burned low, its light a warm, pulsing heartbeat against the stone walls.

The rest of the castle might as well have been another world; here, in Merlin’s chamber, it was just the two of them.

Gwaine didn’t move.

Merlin expected he might shift after a few minutes — make some teasing remark about scandalising the court, or joke about Merlin’s legs going numb.

But instead, Gwaine seemed to melt further into him, his weight settling like a warm cloak.

One of Merlin’s arms still circled Gwaine’s back, loose but steady, while the other rested lightly across his legs. Gwaine’s head remained against his shoulder, the faint brush of hair at his jaw sending small ripples down Merlin’s spine.

“You’re very quiet,” Merlin murmured at last.

“Mhm,” came the reply — muffled, content, and utterly unbothered.

Merlin tilted his head slightly to look down at him. “Is that good or bad?”

“It’s… nice,” Gwaine said after a beat, voice low and lazy. “Like if I don’t move, nothing else will either. Just this.”

Something in Merlin’s chest pulled tight at that, like a string drawn taut.

“You can sleep, if you want,” he said.

Gwaine gave a faint huff of amusement. “You’re offering to let me fall asleep in your lap? You must like me.”

Merlin didn’t rise to the bait. “Maybe I do.”

That earned him a quiet chuckle, but Gwaine didn’t press further. His breathing began to slow, his body finding that peculiar heavy looseness of someone teetering between wakefulness and rest.

At first, Merlin told himself he was simply making sure Gwaine didn’t slip sideways — that was why his arm adjusted to better support him, why his hand splayed more firmly against his side.

But as the minutes bled together, the truth became harder to ignore: he liked it.

He liked the way Gwaine’s weight fit against him, solid and unyielding in its trust. He liked the subtle shift of his chest with each breath, the faint warmth seeping through the fabric where they touched.

Gwaine smelled faintly of leather and smoke still, but underneath that, there was a cleaner scent — soap, and something warm and indefinably Gwaine.

Merlin had been touched plenty in his life — jostled by villagers, gripped by Arthur after some near miss, hugged by Gaius on rare occasions. But this was… different. This was someone choosing to rest against him simply because they wanted to, with no urgency, no performance, no ulterior motive.

And it did something to him.

———————————————

It started without thought. A small shift of his hand, fingers brushing the hair just behind Gwaine’s ear.
The strands were softer than he’d expected, a little unruly even after what was probably a recent wash.
Merlin’s fingertips lingered there for a moment too long to be accidental. Then, almost without realising, they slid into the longer lengths, combing idly through.

Gwaine hummed faintly in response — not awake enough to comment, but not so far gone that he didn’t notice.

The sound went straight to Merlin’s chest, warm and oddly satisfying.

He did it again, a little slower this time. His nails scraped lightly against Gwaine’s scalp, and the knight’s breath eased out in something dangerously close to a sigh.

Merlin froze, half-expecting Gwaine to rouse and make some lewd remark. But the only reaction was Gwaine leaning fractionally more into the touch.

Merlin swallowed.

This wasn’t a joke for Gwaine, not right now. There was no smirk, no sidelong glance — only quiet, unguarded acceptance.

And in that moment, Merlin understood something he hadn’t let himself consider before: all the teasing, the ridiculous antics, the deliberate troublemaking… it wasn’t just about riling him up.

It was about being seen.

Gwaine made himself impossible to ignore because, somewhere deep down, he didn’t believe people would choose him otherwise.

Merlin’s throat tightened. He’d been so focused on keeping his own secrets — on staying unnoticed unless he wanted otherwise — that he hadn’t realised how similar they were.

“Gwaine,” he said quietly.

The knight made a soft, questioning noise without opening his eyes.

“You’re not easy to overlook, you know.”

A faint smile curved Gwaine’s lips. “That’s the idea.”

“I mean it,” Merlin said, fingers still carding gently through his hair. “Even if you weren’t… like this. Even if you were quieter. I’d still notice.”

That earned him another low hum. “Dangerous words, Merlin.”

“I don’t care.”

Gwaine shifted slightly, his legs resettling across Merlin’s lap. His arm — the one nearest Merlin’s chest — curled in, hand resting lightly against the fabric of Merlin’s shirt.

Merlin’s magic pulsed faintly in the background, not because he was using it, but because it was aware. It recognised the trust in the moment and seemed to hum in approval.

He kept stroking Gwaine’s hair, alternating between combing through the strands and tracing slow circles at his temple. Every so often, Gwaine would make that low, content noise again — the one that sounded like a man safe enough to stop pretending.

Merlin realised, with a flicker of surprise, that he wanted to keep this. Not just tonight, not just as some accident born of magic and proximity, but as something they could have again.

When Gwaine finally spoke again, it was so soft that Merlin almost missed it.

“You’re warm.”

Merlin’s mouth twitched. “So are you.”

“Mhm.” A pause. “Don’t let me fall.”

The words were simple, but Merlin knew what they meant.

“I won’t.”

He felt the faintest tension bleed out of Gwaine’s frame at that, as if some deep muscle had finally unclenched.

Merlin leaned his cheek lightly against Gwaine’s hair. “You could’ve sat anywhere tonight. But you stayed.”

Gwaine’s lips curved faintly against his shoulder.“Told you. I like where I am.”

———————————————

Time blurred.

The fire burned lower, casting long shadows, but neither of them moved. Merlin kept stroking Gwaine’s hair, his other hand occasionally smoothing along the line of his back in slow, absent arcs.

At some point, Gwaine’s breathing evened out completely, his weight growing heavier with the pull of real sleep.

Merlin’s lap tingled faintly from the pressure, but he didn’t mind. If anything, the solid weight was grounding.

He thought about carrying Gwaine to the bed — about using magic to set him down without waking him — but the idea of letting go right now felt… wrong.

So he stayed, content to be the one Gwaine had chosen to rest against.

Merlin didn’t say the words out loud — he wasn’t sure he could yet — but the thought lodged itself firmly in his chest: You don’t have to ask like this. You don’t have to earn it with noise or mischief. If you want me to hold you, you only have to be here.

He tightened his arm minutely, enough to draw Gwaine a fraction closer.

And even though the knight was already asleep, Merlin swore he felt the faintest answering squeeze of fingers against his shirt.