Warm Me Up

Gawain's POV

I was an idiot.

What was I thinking? Me and Galahad, on our own, traveling back to Sarmatia.

Me and Galahad.

On our own.

Stupid.

He was all...giddy. Giddy and grinning, drunk on life. And when that man's drunk he gets incredibly affectionate.

Hugs. Every time I turned around he was swinging an arm around my shoulders and squeezing and talking about finally going home.

Every time we found a nice pond or lake to bathe in he was tackling me into the water. Tackling me.

If there are gods, they are an unmerciful lot. I am only human. I bleed red like the most of men. And may the gods help me, but I was going to explode in a very undignified and premature manner if that man touched me again.

I finally snapped one night as we were sitting around the fire, our freshly caught dinner eaten long ago. Galahad was staring into the fire, suddenly somber compared to his previous attitude.

"We're almost there." My head popped up at his sudden words, prompting him to continue. "We're almost home."

"Home is where the heart is." I muttered, more trying to make conversation then convey any particular message. Galahad looked like he was taking that deeply into consideration.

"So." He paused again. I clenched my teeth. I was far too on edge in all sorts of ways to put up with his slow, careful phrases. He sighed, and scratched the back of his neck. My fingers curled into fists. "So I suppose you'll find your Sarmatian wife, then."

I blinked. A Sarmatian wife? Well, I supposed, Galahad could be the wife if he truly wanted. The kilt was certainly fitting, but...oh. A wife. That's what he meant.

"I suppose." I returned awkwardly.

"Hm." He nodded to himself. I barely suppressed a groan of sheer frustration. The first thing I was going to do when we reached civilization was take the nearest person...woman and-

"We'll never really see each other again, will we?" It was more a statement then a question. We both knew it was true. We had never seen each other before being taken for our service.

"Well you could always come live with my tribe." I offered with a poor attempt at a grin.

"Mm. I don't think I could stand seeing you with a wife."

I blinked. Had he just said what I thought he said? He looked up suddenly, a look of horror crossing his face.

"What I mean is..." He trailed off. It must've been the look on my face. The look of a man who couldn't care less about some pretty Sarmatian woman. The look of a man who had the worst case of blue balls in the history of mankind.

The next bit is still a blur. I think I may have tackled him because he ended up on his back, I ended up straddling him, and we were firmly connected at the lips.

We were near home, I rationalized to myself. If this was not at all what he had been hinting at then I could quite easily escape to my tribe and never see the man again. Though that would be a shame.

Turns out that he had been hinting at just this thing.

Afterwards we sprawled out on the grass, several limbs still tangled.

Galahad started laughing.

"What's so damn funny?" I mumbled, face-first in the dirt.

"Took me ten years to say something stupid like that."

"I'm rather surprised myself. You've said a good deal of other stupid things that didn't result in such activities." He smacked me. "Took me eleven years to tackle you off a log and nearly throw us both in the fire, if it makes you feel any better."

A/N: ...Heh.

I got the idea when I wrote my first Gawain and Galahad chapters that I would REALLY have to end this story with them finally getting together to even out all that angst.