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If Arthur had asked Gwaine, he would've said Merlin and Lancelot could take care of themselves, but Arthur didn't ask-- he ordered. Especially where Merlin was concerned. And, as much as Gwaine was instinctively inclined to rebel against any hint of noble authority, he admitted that Merlin and Lancelot were taking their sweet time finding dry kindling for the fire. So, on Arthur's order of, "Go find Merlin-- the idiot. It shouldn't take this long for a servant and a knight to collect sticks. Really," Gwaine went without complaint.  

The ground squelched under Gwaine's feet as he trudged through the trees, following the imprints left by Merlin and Lancelot. Fat drops of rain were splashing down on Gwaine's head- oh, how he hated being wet- from the leaves above, the plop-plop-plop sound now interspersed with faint voices. He tread more lightly now, hoping the voices were Merlin and Lancelot and not the bandits they had been hunting.

Peering from behind a tree, Gwaine saw the voices did indeed belong to Merlin and Lancelot. They were standing close together, Merlin's arms wrapped tightly around the wood, sticks pressed close to his body, seemingly shielding him from Lancelot's intensity. Gwaine wanted to interrupt but, like Merlin and Lancelot's eyes were locked on one another's, Gwaine couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene unfolding before him.

Straining to hear what they were saying, Gwaine could only catch a few words that made no sense without the context. It was Merlin's growing blush that truly interested Gwaine. He could see the pink of Merlin's ears and neck even though he couldn't quite pick up the reason for it. He wondered what Lancelot, the noblest of them all, could be saying to make Merlin turn red like that. Something about an "honorable man," if Gwaine's poor hearing (one too many knocks around the head, maybe) was to be believed. Smirking crudely, he wondered if Lancelot was aiming to make an "honorable" man of Merlin.

Lancelot reached out and put his hand gently on Merlin's shoulder and Merlin seemed to melt into the touch. He stepped forward, smoothing his hand down Merlin's bicep. Gwaine couldn't see Merlin's expression from his line of sight, but Lancelot's dark eyes were soft, appearing almost reverent.    

Suddenly, the bushes behind Gwaine rustled ominously. He drew his sword, hoping for just an inconvenient gust of wind, but fearing an armed bandit.

"Just dinner," muttered Gwaine. He laughed at his own skittishness as a rabbit bounded out, scattering leaves and dirt in its wake and startling the chittering birds from their perches in the trees. Tearing noisily through the clearing like a pack of hounds were on its tail, the rabbit darted cleanly between Lancelot and Merlin. They jumped back in surprise. Merlin lost his footing and fell, dropping the kindling.

Moment shattered, the two stared at each other for a beat, their eyes wide, before they started laughing uproariously. Lancelot pulled Merlin up, placing a hand on Merlin's shoulder when he was on his feet, steadying him.  He picked an errant leaf out of Merlin's hair, and Gwaine, really feeling like a horrible voyeur now, stepped into the clearing.

"And while you two are out here laughing it up," Gwaine said, "the princess is moaning about the lack of a proper fire to warm his royal feet by."

"Sorry," said Merlin, somehow looking both sheepish and completely unapologetic.         

Gwaine may have met Merlin in a tavern, but the man wasn't actually one to spend his time drinking. Though, Merlin didn't have much time between assisting Gaius and saving Arthur's royal ass. Merlin was run ragged and Gwaine pitied him for it. Not too much, mind you, since Gwaine knew as much as anyone how devoted Merlin was to the two of them.

But, right now Merlin was sitting across from him, glowering into his ale and generally being a terrible companion.

"Come on, Merlin," said Gwaine, reaching across the table and nudging Merlin's arm. "Drink up and have some fun for a change. You deserve it."

That earned him a weak smile, and Merlin gulped down the rest of his ale. Gwaine grinned when Merlin sputtered a bit; apparently some of his gulps went down the wrong way. 

"There you go, Merlin," said Gwaine jovially, knocking back the rest of his ale then slapping the empty tankard on the table loudly.

An exasperated barmaid called out, "Oi! Watch yourself. I can't have you lot breaking any more. You'll be drinking out of your boots."

Gwaine laughed and winked at her, motioning and saying "Two more here."

Merlin was grinning slightly. It wasn't much, but it was better than his sullen look before Gwaine's antics. The quirk of Merlin's mouth was a mild success. Gwaine had a goal for tonight-- ill-defined, but Merlin's smile was the first step. Merlin was too serious by half sometimes, with a darkly bitter edge. Gwaine's heart ached for his friend. He wanted Merlin happy.  

Gwaine saw Merlin with Lancelot sometimes, not only that evening in the forest, but after training, in skirmishes and in the intervening spaces between when they both were pulled to their respective duties. They laughed easily with each other, shared an odd camaraderie that Gwaine hadn't quite mustered with Merlin yet.

The barmaid plunked their ale down and Gwaine told her, "Put them on my tab." She huffed out acknowledgement, the wisps of her hair fanning out from her red-cheeked face.

Merlin laughed. "Your tab? You really are a regular."

"What," asked Gwaine, "You mean after you searched me down in a tavern the last several times, you thought I'd just give it up when I became a knight?"

"Can't have you acting too noble, huh? Still have to get into a few off-duty bar fights to keep your honor at a minimum?" Merlin teased him.

"Hey!" Merlin's eyes were shining with good humor, and Gwaine counted this as a second victory. "I'm very honorable. Heard it comes with the 'Sir.' And, I don't always start the fights, I just finish them."

Merlin was grinning wider now. "Sir Gwaine, the honorable Finisher of Fights and Tavern Connoisseur."

Chuckling , Gwaine said, "Sounds about right."

"Speaking of honorable," he continued, suffering from overwhelming curiosity fostered by his spying in the forest, "You and Lancelot...?"

"Me and Lancelot?" Merlin practically squeaked, "What d'you mean?"

"You seem awfully close. You've been friends with him a while, yeah?" Gwaine smirked like he knew something, hoping Merlin would confide in him.

Merlin's cheeks pinked and he took a swallow of his ale before he said, "I helped him out when he first came to Camelot. And... he helped me. Well, we helped each other, really."

"And," Gwaine prompted.

"And nothing. He's in love with Gwen. Despite Arthur." Merlin's blush deepened, realizing what he'd let slip. He was interested in Lancelot.  

"Oh, sod that," said Gwaine, with heat in his voice. "I've seen the way he looks at you." Gwaine was remembering Lancelot's quiet eyes, so full of love and respect when he looked at Merlin in the woods.

"The way he looks at me?" Merlin choked out. "It's..." he started, pausing, grasping for words. "We're friends. Next to Gaius, he... he knows me the best. That's all."

Gwaine didn't think that was all, but he declined to say much more.

"It's too bad," he said, capping off the conversation to spare Merlin anymore awkwardness, "You too would make a pretty pair." He smiled slyly and Merlin just laughed quietly, shaking his head.

Gwaine saw Merlin and Lancelot walking together in the courtyard the next day, shoulders touching, fingers barely brushing. The day after, he caught them ducked into an alcove, sharing some secret joke, clutching each other as they laughed. He spied Lancelot helping Merlin carry a heavy load of laundry, both of them smiling as they shared the chore. When Merlin dropped a tray of breakfast for Arthur in the corridor, Lancelot helped him clean up quickly. Their hands touched when they both reached for the upturned goblet, and Lancelot let his thumb slide over Merlin's forefinger slowly.

A blind man could see Lancelot felt something for Merlin. Gwaine wondered why Merlin didn't.

After training the next day, Gwaine  took the opportunity to sidle up to Lancelot while they were stripping off their gauntlets and mail. Gwaine and Lancelot were alone for once, the rest of the knights off on other assignments. He wondered how to broach the topic of Merlin as he pulled his chainmail over his head. Feeling stupidly like a matchmaker, Gwaine decided Lancelot would appreciate an honest, straight-forward approach to the subject.

"What are your intentions toward Merlin?" Gwaine demanded. Lancelot startled visibly at Gwaine's question.  

Turning to face Gwaine, he repeated carefully, "My intentions?"

"He thinks he doesn't have a chance, you know? Thinks you're still hung up on Gwen."

Lancelot looked as if he'd been struck.

"It's true," he said, "that I care for Guinevere still."

Gwaine narrowed his eyes, anger on Merlin's behalf surfacing at Lancelot's words.

"But," Lancelot quickly continued, "what there was between us... it's done. She may care for me too, but she loves Arthur. She will make a great queen someday."

Gwaine softened, Lancelot's confession lessening his misguided anger.

"And Merlin? I've seen the way you are with him. You are more than a friend to him, Lancelot."

"I..." He trailed off, his lips curled into a sweetly fond smile. "He's a good man. A great man. It'd be an honor to be worthy of his love."

"You are worthy, Lancelot," Gwaine said. "He'd be lucky to have you, I think."

Lancelot chuckled. "If only you knew the things he's done, you'd think differently. But, those are not my stories to tell."

Gwaine was confused. He knew Merlin was kind and good and brave, but he wondered what else he'd done for Lancelot to hold him in such high regard.

"You should go to him. Tell him how you feel." Lancelot would make Merlin happy, Gwaine thought. Merlin deserved someone to love, someone to smooth away the day's concerns with the tender touch of their lips. Someone to share his life with. He seemed the type to want that kind of commitment, if his loyalty to Arthur was anything to go on. 

 Lancelot looked concerned. "You think he would welcome me?"

 "I'm not often sure of much," said Gwaine, "but that I'm sure of. He would."

Lancelot finished putting away his armor and left, flashing Gwaine a nervous smile over his shoulder. Gwaine wanted to follow, to see how things turned out, but he'd already inserted himself enough in this relationship. He'd bet though, that not too long from now, Merlin would be smiling into Lancelot's embrace, their lips sliding together in a kiss. Finally.

***

They were out on bandit patrol again, which was different from regular patrol with its "capture or kill" goal. Merlin was with them this time, as Arthur had need of him on these longer patrols. They all did, really. Merlin was handy with flint. The warm fire, sometimes seeming to light itself at his hand, was welcome after a long day on horseback. And, as much as Arthur complained that he was useless, Merlin could hold his own in a fight most of the time.

Merlin and Lancelot were riding side-by-side, not really talking, just staying in stride with each other. Gwaine hadn't really had a chance to talk to either man since his conversation in the armory with Lancelot a week ago. He'd spotted Lancelot helping Merlin saddle the horses before they rode out, however, and the two of them seemed happy enough.

Gwaine heard Lancelot laughing at something Merlin said.

"Those two are getting along well, " said Elyan, with a knowing wink.

Of course, that's when the bandits they were looking for decided to forgo hiding. They stupidly rushed out of the woods at the knights. They must've had a death wish, ambushing six knights on horseback. But, when they kept coming out of the trees, Gwaine revised his opinion of their lack of intelligence. They must've believed they had the advantage in numbers because Gwaine counted twenty men with swords and axes so far.

Gwaine ran one man through before he could slice his thigh with his axe. He disliked fighting on horseback. He was used to being able to throw a punch (or thrust a sword) in any direction around him, to pivot on his heel quickly and strike out. On horseback, he was mostly limited to stabbing downward and twisting awkwardly. Or, trampling over anyone dumb enough to get in his way, though that just felt unsporting to him. He preferred a fair fight if he could manage it.

After felling two more men who ran at him, Gwaine found the opening he needed to jump from his horse and into the fray. He leapt onto a bandit, burying his sword into the man's gut; grunting as he yanked the blade out, Gwaine turned, slashing a burly man across the chest. He locked eyes with Merlin several feet away, against a tree, fending off his own attacker with a stolen sword. Merlin was pinned down, only able to deflect the man's repeated blows. Lancelot's hands were full, his sword clashing with another's.

Gwaine tried to make his way to defend Merlin himself, but after three steps he was forced to fight a giant of a man who took a swing at his head with a large broadsword. He parried the blow, his ears ringing with the clang of their swords meeting, his arm vibrating painfully all the up to the shoulder. The man grinned crookedly and tried to strike Gwaine again. Gwaine was quicker and he ducked, his loose, long hair swaying with the momentum and sticking to the side of his sweaty face. He thrust up just as his opponent missed slicing into his shoulder.

He pushed the man off his sword, the sickening schlick of the blade sliding through innards reminding Gwaine why he favored fists to steel. Gwaine finally caught sight of Merlin again, looking stricken. The man Merlin was fighting was dead at his feet, and the din of fighting had dulled to the heavy breathing and skirmishes of just several men instead of almost thirty.

"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, distraught.

Gwaine twisted around to see Arthur, fully engaged with one man, had missed the other charging him from behind. Merlin, Gwaine and Lancelot were too far away. Elyan and Percival still fighting, were distracted. Arthur struck down his current combatant, and tried to turn to the other he knew was behind him, but it was too late. Gwaine glanced desperately at Merlin.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold.  

No, that couldn't be right. Clearly Gwaine was hallucinating and needed a drink or five. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and shook off the strange feeling skittering around in his head.  Gwaine jerked his attention back to Arthur when he heard an un-Arthur like yelp. Relief flooded him when he found Arthur standing tall, seemingly uninjured. His attacker had been knocked into a tree too far away to have been Arthur's doing.

"What?" Arthur asked, confused. He looked hard at Merlin, questioning, his mouth set in tight line.

Merlin blanched. Lancelot came to stand by Merlin's side, clapping his hand on Merlin's shoulder and leaving it, a challenge in his eyes as he looked to Arthur.

Gwaine hadn't been hallucinating after all. He needed a drink more than ever. It was obvious Merlin had just done magic. Elyan and Percival, their foes dispatched, stood quietly with their swords still half-raised, wary of the tension between Merlin and Arthur.

Lancelot didn't seem surprised. He must've already known of Merlin's sorcery. That's why they had always seemed to share a secret. It's what Lancelot meant when he said Merlin had done more than most knew. He must've been saving Arthur's ass with magic this entire time! Merlin brought his hand up to Lancelot's and gripped it in a show of solidarity. Then he shook him off and stepped over the dead man at his feet, toward Arthur.

"Arthur," Merlin started, his words catching in his throat.

Gwaine felt torn between Merlin, his best friend whom he loved, and Arthur, his future king whom he respected greatly for defying his expectations.

"Merlin, don't," Arthur ordered quietly. Merlin stopped in his tracks, hands clasping and unclasping with nervous energy. The thumping of Gwaine's heart was deafeningly loud in his ears as the silence between Merlin and Arthur stretched on.    

"Thank you," Arthur said, finally. Gwaine could see Merlin's legs shaking, his body slackened with relief and joy at Arthur's words, but he was still standing.

Arthur continued, "That's all that needs to be said."

"Arthur," Merlin began again.

"That's all that needs to be said here, right now." Arthur interrupted Merlin potentially putting his foot in his mouth, his hard tone betrayed by the faint smile tugging at his lips.

"No one should speak of this to anyone, ever. Unless I've given you explicit permission," Arthur said sternly, looking to Elyan and Percival especially.

"Yes, Sire," they all said, not only because Arthur was their prince, but because Merlin was their friend. Gwaine knew they all probably owed him debts they didn't even realize the owed, debts Merlin had never tried to collect.

"Come on," said Arthur with an air of finality, "let's check for stragglers and gather the horses."

Lancelot pulled Merlin into a hug then, after Arthur turned away. He brushed his lips against Merlin's chastely as he pulled away. Both of them were smiling widely.

Back in the tavern a few days later, Gwaine was finally getting the drink he had so desperately needed after that last patrol. Across from him, Merlin was leaning against Lancelot and sighing contentedly as Lancelot stroked his fingers up and down Merlin's pale neck, occasionally pressing kisses to the skin his fingers brushed against.

"Now you two," Gwaine said, teasing. "Don't you think you ought to take that behind closed doors?"

"Never took you for one to deny yourself a good show," said Merlin, laughing.

"I try not to, but some shows I prefer to watch in private, "countered Gwaine.

"If you're invited," Lancelot said, chuckling. "And you're not. This time."

Merlin laughed hard at Lancelot's last, suggestively pointed remark, and at Gwaine's widening eyes. Lancelot kissed Merlin's laughing mouth soundly, causing some other off-duty knights to whistle and cat-call.

When they separated, Merlin said breathlessly, "Well, I think that means it's time for us to say goodnight."

"Goodnight," Gwaine responded, waggling his eyebrows lewdly and grinning.

Lancelot nodded to Gwaine as he and Merlin pushed away from table, both men looking flushed and happy. Gwaine ordered another pint as he watched them leave, feeling a strangely warm bloom of pride in his chest. Along with fighting and drinking, he might have to add matchmaking to his list of talents.