Warnings: Profane language, sexual innuendo, graphic description of injury, and oh yeah there's the fact I still know nothing about medicine/health/anatomy. ;)

...

Problem twelve: Gwaine was a bloody awful patient.

Probably the most embarrassing moment of Gwaine's career (in a long detailed career of embarrassing moments, usually involving getting caught trousers-down with someone's daughter, which Gwaine naturally took this opportunity to mention) was being held sitting upright between Arthur and Lancelot as Merlin cut his shirt from off his body and proceeded to wrap his stomach and chest with what may have been two or three bed sheets' worth of bandages.

"Well, at least I won't be cleaning these again," Merlin said with some sort of sick satisfaction as he tied the last bandage off.

"You…what?" Arthur asked.

Merlin looked at him.

Percival, who was crouched nearby working on the litter, snorted.

"Those were my shirts?"

Gwaine guffawed, never mind it hurt.

"Where else were we going to get clean bandages?" Merlin retorted. "And anyway, it wasn't my idea. It was Sir Leon's!"

Sir Leon who was conveniently out of earshot.

"Yeah, that's right, Sir Leon's," Percival added. Gwaine—and Arthur by the look of it—didn't believe for a moment that it was Sir Leon's idea, but he couldn't do anything about it now, really, except turn red and set his jaw. Even Lancelot thought this was funny.

Settled back against Lancelot now, Gwaine's chuckle faded more because it hurt than he stopped finding the situation funny. Merlin, Lancelot, and Percival kept laughing even after Gwaine had quite forgotten what they were laughing about, and he had fallen silent. His gaze wandered away from the eyes and the smiles to the sky beyond.

The clouds seemed darker. Gwaine wasn't going to say anything. It was just as likely that his vision was going wrong.

Merlin touched his head as if he had forgotten he was wearing a hat.

"I think it's starting to rain," he said, blinking up.

"Almost done," Percival said.

"No shoddy work, now, Perce: the only thing worse than letting you lot cart me back to Camelot would be if it broke and you dropped me!" Gwaine said. It was becoming…an effort to talk now, and Gwaine didn't like that. Still, it would take a lot more than this to keep Sir Gwaine silent!

Merlin must have caught something in his eyes—Gwaine made a note to be better on his guard—because he spoke up at that point. "How much pain are you in?"

"Well, I'd say I'm about to be a major pain in the arse by the first mile—"

Merlin scowled.

Gwaine rolled his eyes, but put his hand on top of Merlin's. "I'm fine, Merlin, all right?" he said quietly, earnestly. No one could deny Gwaine in persuasive mode, so Merlin dropped it.

There was a fair sprinkle when they lifted him onto the litter—"You may be a worse patient than Arthur!" Merlin had exclaimed in response to his wriggling and complaining about being carried, and at the same time voicing problem number nine (that he was a terrible patient) which he had forgotten about—so they drew out their cold-weather cloaks and trudged on. Percival and Leon were near his head in the back, with Arthur and Lancelot in the front taking his feet, leaving Merlin to wrangle the horses and attempt to scout ahead.

Problem number thirteen was that Gwaine talked too much.

Oh, he could be silent. He'd been silent when they'd been tracking the boar. He could sneak about as well as anyone, except maybe Merlin. He just didn't like to be quiet. Not when he had such stories to tell, and no one had anything better to do but listen!

And certainly not when all their faces just looked so bloody worried! Gwaine had to keep up appearances, didn't he? I mean, sure, give him his druthers and he'd much prefer being passed out unconscious until this entire dreadful thing was over and it didn't hurt so Goddamned much, but, well, then they'd know, wouldn't they? He had to keep them laughing, or at least keep them irritated at him. Then they wouldn't have time to be worried. Gwaine couldn't stand worry. It was worse than pity.

The sprinkle turned into a light snowfall, and the temperature plummeted in a few short (okay, very, very long) hours. Though they had actually draped one of the tents over him to keep him dry, Gwaine was growing quite cold, and if his constant bitching about the weather hadn't clued them in, Merlin's warm hand against his cold neck told them they had to stop for the night and get Gwaine warmed up.

"You know what would help with that?" Gwaine asked as his litter-carriers trudged along. "A drop of whiskey!" he answered when no one guessed.

"Gwaine, you do know that only makes you feel warmer, right? It can actually help you to freeze to death faster," Merlin scolded.

"Ooh, look who knows so much!" Gwaine jabbed.

"That's…common knowledge, Gwaine! It's a wonder you're still alive, if this is how you've 'looked after yourself' all those years."

"Hey, that which doesn't kill you, right?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as the men considered just how Gwaine was still alive. Certainly he had been in worse scrapes than this, they posited, if only to make themselves feel better about the current situation, and—had he always been alone, when it happened? If strength was actually measured by that which didn't kill you, well…

"Merlin," Arthur barked, filling the silence. "Stop encouraging him and go ahead to see if you can find some shelter. A house would be best, but a cave or glen will do."

Gwaine stiffened, but Arthur anticipated his complaint:

"Uh. Sir Leon, go with him. Percival, can you—"

"Got it," the knight replied, and Leon passed his corner of the litter to Percival, who took the weight easily.

"Look at you, you big strong man." Gwaine said, his jaw beginning to hurt from not letting his teeth chatter in the cold. "What do they feed you, my God?"

Percival shot him a painful smile.

They trudged on for some time like this. Gwaine's stories had now drifted to the one time he was caught with some Lady called Godgifu in a storm and how they had had to keep warm by lying naked together in a cave—and what that led to—and Arthur really was ready to kill him when Merlin returned, waving animatedly.

"It's almost too big, a bit drafty," Merlin said, "but it'll get us out of the snow and we can keep the horses inside, too."

"And it's better than what we've got," Arthur insisted, and Merlin led the way.

Gwaine was definitely obviously shivering by the time they got him inside, and looking far too pale. Arthur was giving orders immediately. "Lancelot, Percival, get a fire going. Merlin, look after the horses. Leon, you have first watch."

"And I suppose I'm left to you?" Gwaine smirked as Arthur advanced on him.

"Shut up, Gwaine." Arthur was serious. He was so rarely serious, or maybe it was that Gwaine so rarely took his seriousness seriously, so Gwaine let the grin fall from his face. Arthur looked at him, pained. "Would you drop the act?" he pleaded.

Gwaine was taken aback. He scrunched his face at Arthur, shifted uncomfortably. Arthur's gaze bored into him. Gwaine didn't like it. Why was this working on him? He didn't care what Arthur thought or did or threatened or asked of him, did he? Arthur was a noble, like all nobles. He didn't…care….

Except Arthur did care. He cared a lot. Because his jaw was hard but his eyes were soft, and Merlin was in the background pretending not to be listening in and pretending not to be crying and—

"You wouldn't like that," Gwaine whispered after a moment, a bit defeated.

Arthur huffed out through his nose, like a dragon.

"I—I'm okay," Gwaine insisted, surprised at himself for talking so easily. Even the lies usually had to be wrung out of him. "You know. Not great. You'll know when it gets bad. I swear. You'll know."

Arthur grumbled, but that was the best he was going to get.

"Fine. Are you warm enough?"

"Bloody freezing!" he exclaimed, almost laughing before he choked on his enthusiasm. He coughed lightly, and then again, harder. Ow…

Merlin rushed up. "Gwaine?"

Gwaine coughed again, but finally seemed to expel whatever was tickling his chest. "Ugh," he said.

Merlin and Arthur relaxed.

Then, suddenly, the pain in his belly was worse, and Gwaine sucked in a sharp breath. "Ow. Hurts."

"Gwaine, what is it?" Arthur demanded, at full agitation capacity again.

Merlin was touching him. He didn't want to be touched. Well, he did, but not now. Really not now.

Gwaine struggled a moment, but it was quickly apparent that this was not going to end well. "Think I'm gonna be…"

Gwaine used his last bit of strength reserves to sit up and roll over as he retched violently, holding his belly. Arthur half-leapt out of the way, but Merlin steadied him. Gwaine wasn't in enough pain for this not to be embarrassing, but it was close. He groaned, shaking on his elbows, as the last bit came up. No blood. Well, maybe a little.

"Ugh." He said. He was really trembling hard now, afraid to lie back down, unable to stay up.

A hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. Gwaine flinched, didn't want to go, and groaned his disapproval. But he fell only a few inches, his chest pillowed on Merlin's knee. He was slowly becoming aware of Merlin speaking to him. "Easy, easy, you're all right, it's okay," he went on softly, and apparently had been doing for some time.

"Owwie," Gwaine whined. This wasn't freaking fair.

"I think you opened up the wounds again," Merlin said, moving Gwaine's arm aside to look at his belly. "I'll have a look at those in a minute."

"Super," Gwaine gasped, not really caring if Merlin had said he was going to cut his balls off later. His chest was heaving, every breath painful. His eyes couldn't decide whether they wanted to be open or closed. And he was still shaking, violently.

"I'll…" Arthur sighed, looked at Merlin, communicating something with his eyes that Gwaine was too exhausted to catch. "Look after him. I'll clean this up. I guess."

Almost a full minute later, Gwaine laughed. It was weak, and was more of a gasp, but a faint smile appeared on his face. Arthur was going to clean up? It wasn't even so much embarrassing that Arthur was going to clean up Gwaine's vomit, as it was horrifyingly confusing.

"I must be more out of it than I thought," Gwaine gasped.

"Oh, good, you heard him, too?" Merlin smiled. "I thought I was imagining things."

…

A/N: Thanks for reading, and for your continued support! Posts will slow down at this point I'm afraid, so expect me when you see me! I'm really enjoying this so far though so it's doubtful I'll leave it alone for long. ;) As always, questions, comments, concerns, suggestions, requests and ideas are welcome!