A/N: A wild 'new fandom writer' appears! This is actually my first time writing anything for Merlin so if my characterizations are a little sketchy I apologize but feedback and con-crit are very much appreciated. I have a deep love of Gwaine as a human being so I decided to give him some more stories because why not? I know this probably reads a lot like slash (and if you want to take it that way who am I to stop you?) but it's not intended to be. One of the things that bugs me the most as an asexual is how people constantly associate any kind of physical affection as being romantic or sexual when a lot of times it's not. I didn't write in any undertones of anything more than a very physically affectionate friendship. I'll shut up now on the grounds that I know most of you have probably stopped reading and say nothing more than enjoy and review! ^-^
It all started when Gwaine ended up brushing Merlin's hair. The warlock had, through a spectacular combination of events, ended up with a fractured right wrist and two broken fingers on his left hand. As per usual, Gwaine charged through the door without knocking and found Merlin glaring down at his comb like it had been dredged up from the depths of hell.
"Got a problem, mate?" Merlin startled from where he sat.
"Oh, um, nothing really I just..." He trailed off.
"Just what?"
"I can't comb my hair," Merlin finished, sounding oddly petulant. He waved his injured extremities to reinforce his point, looking a bit like a child who'd been grounded for bad behavior. Looking at his expression, Gwaine chuckled.
"Well that's not the comb's fault now, is it?"
"No, it's Arthur's," Merlin grumbled back. "If I hadn't been saving his royal arse again all of my bones would be unbroken right now."
"At least princess said thank you this time. Here," Gwaine marched over to stand behind the warlock, "hold still." He snatched up the comb, running it through Merlin's hair and ignoring the young man's startled yelp. He held Merlin's head still with one hand while he combed with the other, noticing but not remarking on the way Merlin visibly relaxed under his touch.
Two or so minutes later (with a little bit of deliberate prolonging on his part) Gwaine put down the comb, observing Merlin with pride. "There you go. Not as good as my hair, of course, but you can't expect too much, can you?" Merlin just snorted, rushed out a thank you, and left to go help Gaius. In lieu of the fact that he had indeed saved Arthur's life and received his injuries in the process, the king had given him some time off. All he had on his schedule today was helping Gaius translate some old texts, a task which required nothing more than turning a page.
Both men steadfastly said nothing about how Gwaine showed up every morning after that to brush Merlin's hair for him, even after the warlock had recovered the use of both of his hands. Gwaine was a very affectionate person if you could get close enough to him to reveal that side; nothing made his day more than hugging people, or patting their backs, or pretty much anything to do with touching really. Unfortunately there weren't many people he was that close to who would let him.
Merlin, however, had the opposite problem. Growing up with only his mother had acclimated him to physical affection as a normal thing, an attitude that seemed completely alien to the knights of Camelot and their fearless leader. He could get a hug from Gaius (and frequently did) but that was essentially it, and if he was being completely honest, he missed it. Of course, he wasn't about to be completely honest- he could practically hear Arthur calling him a girl from where he sat.
And so the two men came to a mutual if unspoken agreement: Gwaine would provide the affection Merlin wanted and Merlin in turn would provide the reception Gwaine wanted. The first time it ever extended beyond the morning hair combing was (of course) the first time anyone noticed their actions. Merlin had been having a particularly clumsy day and had just finished dropping all of Arthur's equipment of the floor of the armory with a frustrated groan when he felt arms around him.
Gwaine didn't say anything, just held Merlin in a bear hug until he felt the other man relax. He finally pulled back, grinning at his friend. "Better now?" Merlin turned red around the ears and nodded.
"Thanks," he mumbled, gathering up the armor with Gwaine's help. As soon as they turned around, though, they were confronted by a very bemused Percival who, to his credit, did nothing more than raise an eyebrow. Merlin's blush got steadily more prominent until it was nearly indistinguishable from his neckerchief, but Gwaine just gave the huge knight a smile.
"Whatever you're thinking, it's probably wrong." He strolled out, leaving Merlin to hurry after him while Percival just shook his head, grabbed his sword, and decided not to ask questions he didn't want answers to.
As was more or less routine, Merlin found himself leaving a training session an absolute mess one day, when all of the knights had been pelted by pouring rain and Arthur in particular had vented some of his spleen on his manservant, leaving him on his back in a mud puddled more than once. He deposited Arthur's gear in the armory as quickly as he could and then left, sitting under an awning and trying to pick some of the mud out of his hair, knowing that he probably looked absolutely pathetic at that moment but lacking the energy required to care.
"You should stick with black, mate, brunette doesn't really suit you." Merlin huffed out a laugh at his friend's remark.
"I'd be perfectly happy to if this mud hadn't dried already." He continued to look out at the deluge glumly. Gwaine sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, sit down already, you look like a kicked puppy." Gwaine nudged Merlin onto the flagstones, taking a seat on the low windowsill behind him and tugging the warlock backwards until his back was rested against Gwaine's knees, leaving his head free. He pulled a soaking wet rag out of his pocket and pressed down on Merlin's pitch black hair, carding his fingers through it to remove the softened mud.
Strictly speaking the process should have taken much less time then it did but neither man remarked upon the fact as they both relaxed to the sound of the downpour, sinking into a contented silence. Gwaine continued running his fingers through Merlin's hair until well after all of the mud had been removed, hardly even noticing that he'd kept it up until Merlin's head suddenly sagged forward. He moved it back up with a jerk and Gwaine laughed.
"A little tired, Merlin?"
"Sorry," Merlin replied sheepishly. "It's just, that's always made me sleepy." Gwaine smiled fondly at him and shifted so that Merlin's head was resting against his knees instead of his back before he picked up the carding motion again. "Gotta get the prat his lunch," the servant mumbled, sounding more tired by the second. The knight snorted.
"Princess can wait for a bit, after the pounding he gave you out there. Go on and take a nap. I'll wake you." He kept up the gentle motions until he felt Merlin's breathing even out, tracing swirling patterns on the dark hair and eventually sinking into a doze himself. They were both awoken an hour later by Percival. He still didn't ask any questions.
Merlin felt kind of like he was floating in space, and it was definitely not a nice feeling- cut adrift, bodiless, unsure of where he was or what was going on around him. He vaguely remembered bandits in the woods, getting thumped on the back of the head and carted off before one of them forced some vile potion down his mouth and now here he was, stranded. No, that wasn't entirely true- he could feel rope around his wrists, rough and tight, and it occurred to him that if he only had a body he could use his magic to get out.
And then yelling started up all around him and he felt the ropes get severed, only to be replaced by hands tugging him into a familiar bear hug before he was swept upwards and carried out of the hideaway, still bodiless. This went on for a while, until he felt himself touch the ground, still as limp as a dead fish but slightly more aware of what was going on around him. Well, at the very least he knew he had his eyes open. The familiar feeling of a warm hand running through his hair eased away the remainder of his fear, and Merlin allowed himself to sleep, knowing that he was safe.
The bandits really had been pathetic; it was a matter of laughable simplicity for the patrol to track them back to their shack of a hideout as soon as they'd dispatched their attackers, going after their missing friend. Arthur finished off anyone who was bold or stupid enough to stand in their way while Gwaine carried out the semiconscious servant, with Percival and Leon taking care of any stragglers at the back.
They made camp far enough away that anyone they might have missed would miss them too and then settled down for the night, eager for some rest. "How is he, Gwaine?" Arthur crouched by his manservant and looked him over, relieved beyond measure to find no visible injuries.
"Sound asleep, as far as I can tell," the knight replied. Arthur sighed with relief and then gave his rogue knight an odd look.
"What on earth are you doing?" Gwaine had, almost without realizing it, positioned the warlock so that his head rested in the knight's lap and begun the familiar motions of running his fingers softly through Merlin's hair. He blinked in surprise and then shrugged.
"He likes it." He gave the king a sly grin. "Don't worry princess, I'm not trying to steal him from you." Arthur snorted and shook his head in exasperation at Gwaine's irreverent sense of humor.
"Why exactly are you stroking his hair?" Leon asked from the other side of the camp, sounding perplexed. Gwaine laughed and the sound caused Merlin to stir, flopping sideways so that he was facing towards the fire and blinking once or twice.
"Merlin?" Arthur's question didn't get a response; the young man was asleep before his eyes finished closing. Gwaine continued his carding motion, relaxing against a log and occasionally running his thumb down the back of Merlin's neck while the warlock slept on.
"Like I said, he likes it. I like touching people, and he likes being touched. That's all there is to it." Leon shrugged and seemed to let go of the matter, Percival smiled from his place standing watch, and Arthur still looked at them like he was sincerely doubting their sanity, but he didn't bring the topic up again.
They reached Camelot the next day with a still-groggy manservant (who had, after what Arthur would insist was not an argument, ridden back with Gwaine) and received Gaius' assurances that Merlin only needed to sleep off the potion he'd been given and then would be just fine.
By some sort of voiceless agreement, none of the other knights brought up the affection that was present between Merlin and Gwaine but if they just so happened to walk in and see Merlin leaning against the knight's knees or resting his head in his lap while Gwaine made patterns in his black hair they didn't look twice. And if they caught sight of Gwaine giving the slighter man a bear hug after a stressful day nothing was said of it. And they certainly never acted like it was odd that the two men would sleep so close together while they were on patrol, almost side by side, after which Gwaine would while away breakfast by running a comb through the warlock's hair.
After all, whatever they were thinking, it was probably wrong.