I wrote this for my friend ClubBreakfast (or alloverthegaf if you're on tumblr). It's mostly because she's awesome, but a little because she's a HUGE Gwaine fan (and let's face it, who isn't, am I right). So, yeah, I thought you'd like to read it, too.
Please enjoy, drop me a comment if you get the chance, and if you ever need a Merlin fix go check out ClubBreakfast (if you already haven't). Kay, bye!
P.S. The characters you are about to read about are not mine.
Gwaine snorts awake, sucking in a lungful of dust. He coughs, triggering his skull crushing hangover. He groans, turning over so he can lie on his back, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.
"Gwaine," a soft voice says from the cot above him.
"Yes, Merlin," Gwaine answers lowering one hand so he can look at the younger man. He's a mess; dark, angry circles under his eyes, disheveled hair, pale, grayish-green skin. Clearly, his night had been just as eventful as Gwaine's had been.
"Why are we in a cell?"
"That's a great question, mate." Gwaine slowly sits up, letting his eyes roam around the cold, dirty cell. The only light is from the barred windows above them, leaving shadows creeping along the walls and floor, but Gwaine can still tell this cell is familiar. In fact, he's pretty sure he's been locked inside a few times.
So, with confidence, he says, "We haven't left Camelot."
"We haven't?" Merlin lays back down, throwing an arm over his eyes, clearly too hungover to care right that second. "That still doesn't explain why we've been arrested."
"Well, look who's awake." Keys jingle in the lock and the door swings open, Arthur appearing in the threshold. He crosses his arms and says, "The new kings of Camelot shouldn't keep their public waiting."
Gwaine can see the amusement in Arthur's eyes, but Merlin, who has yet to sit up, grumpily asks, "What are you on about?"
"Well, last night you and Gwaine decided to get pissed, declare yourselves supreme rulers of Camelot, and lock yourselves in the throne room."
"What?!" Merlin sits up too fast, his face going from grayish-green to pure green, and he wraps an arm around his torso. He breathes deeply through his nose, willing himself not to vomit, and Gwaine appreciates the effort.
Taking pity on the younger man, Gwaine turns back to Arthur and says, "Well, we are, by far, much more handsome than you." He hears Merlin's tiny noise of protest, but ignores it. "And less of a dunderhead."
Arthur's eyes narrow, but he refrains from commenting, returning his attention to Merlin. Concern flickers across his face, but it doesn't show in his voice when he says, "It took Percival and Lancelot three hours to get you out out, and we decided to put you two idiots in here until you sobered up."
"Please tell me I was sitting on the throne." Gwaine has always wanted to sit on the throne, even wondered what having sex on it would be like, but those are fantasies he's kept to himself. Except for the time he told Percival and Leon. And he may have mentioned them to Lancelot. Also he told Elyan and Merlin. Oh and that barmaid one time. But no one else knows.
Arthur frowns, but still says, "You were lounging in it." Gwaine grins, deciding the whole 'getting detained' thing was totally worth it.
"Did we do anything else?" Merlin asks warily.
Arthur is quiet for a moment before he shrugs and says, "Gwaine declared you his queen." He chuckles, shaking his head, and adds, "You'd make a terrible queen, Merlin." He walks away, still laughing silently, leaving the door wide open.
Gwaine shrugs and says, "I could do worse." With a groan, Merlin falls back onto the cot.