A/N: This chapter was tricky. I wrote a few very different versions of it before I finally settled. But I could very well be insane with my choice, so if this doesn't do it for you, you can say, "take it back!" and I can try again. But I think it was just too soon for the other idea I had. As usual, reviews with suggestions, ideas, and requests keep me from belaboring and bemoaning what comes next, so I update faster!

Thanks to EffervescentAardvark, again, for more brilliant ideas, and also to Aoitori for an exceptionally thorough, helpful review! Also thanks, indirectly, to Loopstagirl, whose fic "Runaway" reminded me I should have Leon acting more dad-ish. Finally, thanks also to all those who reviewed, favorited, or alerted. :)

Warnings: Okay, in my defense, it's Gwaine. So crude language and humor ahead.

…

Merlin hadn't wanted to go to sleep, but Lancelot made him. "It didn't work, Lance," he had said, mournfully, exhausted, as Lancelot pulled his own cloak up and over Merlin's thin frame. "I tried, but I couldn't—I'm useless."

"Hush, now, you're not useless," Lancelot said, knowing exactly what Merlin was on about. "You did what you could, and he'll be all right. Just rest, I'll look after him."

Merlin nodded and closed his eyes.

The problem with Gwaine, Lancelot mused, as he watched the sleeping knight—surrounded on all sides by Percival, the fire, Merlin, and himself—was that he never let his guard down. He was a twitchy sleeper, and that didn't bode well at the best of times. He never admitted to having nightmares, and maybe he didn't, but Lancelot had been on enough campaigns with Gwaine to know that the only time he slept easy was when he'd had too much to drink. He assumed there were other events after which Gwaine slept soundly, but Lancelot didn't necessarily want to think about those.

The night passed without incident. Once he'd gotten used to the tossing and turning of Gwaine, whose sleep was more fitful than usual—Percival, who as a rule, slept like the dead, didn't seem any worse for it, luckily—he managed to settle down himself, keeping a lonely but comfortable watch until it was time to wake Leon for the morning watch.

"Leon. Leon?" Lancelot said, jabbing the ginger-haired knight in the shoulder.

Leon snorted and jerked awake, blinking owlishly. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong," Lancelot whispered. "The sky's lightening, and it's your watch."

"Oh." Leon took a minute to collect himself—ran a hand over his face, sat up slowly—and looked around him. "How's Gwaine?"

"Same," Lancelot said, although he honestly didn't know and actually expected "worse" was a more accurate answer. "He's…he hasn't been sleeping too well, but I don't think there's anything we can do—"

"Oh, there's plenty you could do," insisted a gravelly voice from the other side of the fire. "Only you lot insist on being perfect bastards."

"Gwaine," Leon frowned.

"It's true," Gwaine grumbled, sounding weary but determined: "Not a drop of whiskey, not a harlot to be had for miles, and I'm stuck sleeping on the cold hard ground with the sleeveless wonder here who, between you and me, is, I think, a virgin, and let me tell you I do not (except in the most exceptional of cases) share beds with virgins!"

"Hush, Gwaine," Leon said, trying desperately not to find that funny. "Lancelot's trying to sleep."

"Help me up," Gwaine said, struggling futilely to shove blankets and Percival off of him.

"What?" Leon was at Gwaine's side in an instant. He looked slightly flushed but hardly delirious. "No! Gwaine you've got to lie still."

"Which is why I need your help, genius," Gwaine said, freeing one of his hands enough to clutch at Leon's sleeve. "Look. I've got to piss. Help me up."

Oh.

"Uh. I still think…"

"What, you want to explain that to Percival?" Now Gwaine's laughing eyes grew serious. "Please, Leon. I'm only going to have the strength to do this once, and I'd rather save you the mess and me my pride as long as I can, all right? Be glad I'm letting you help me, Jesus."

Leon frowned but, "All right," he said. "But you follow my lead, and let me do the work."

Leon eased Percival aside—"eased," ha! It took nearly all his strength!—and, after putting Gwaine's boots on him, lifted Gwaine first into a sitting position. Gwaine hissed but didn't say anything. "Sorry," Leon whispered. "You all right?"

Gwaine could only nod. He looked pale.

"You sure about this? I could get a pot or something…"

Gwaine let out his held breath in a laugh. "The one we eat out of? Yeah, right."

"Merlin said it was sterile…" Leon tried, grinning.

"Not funny. Up."

"Okay, okay, easy. Now, let me actually help you, understand? You do what I say. You try for one step to prove how tough you think you are, son, I'll put you back down and make you pee in your bowl, all right?"

"All right, all right, stop with the 'dad' thing, it's worrying me."

"Gwaine."

"Okay, okay," Gwaine was getting lightheaded just sitting up, and his face felt hot from more than the fever. "I'm not tough, follow the leader, now can we get on with it?"

They got on with it, but the going was slow. Gwaine was shirtless but claimed he felt too warm for cloak or coat, and since it would have been an ordeal anyway, Leon let it slide. And Gwaine actually behaved, leaning heavily on Leon and only moving when he told him to, much to Leon's surprised and secret horror: he had expected the fight, for Gwaine to try walking on his own, but he didn't. They shuffled slowly along, Gwaine's limp belying more than a full bladder.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," Gwaine snapped, when they'd reached the cave entrance. Clearly this was taking a lot of effort.

Leon wasn't going to let this go. "You're not hurt anywhere else? Only you're limping, too. Did your legs sustain any injuries?"

"No, Leon, I just have a really huge cock that gets in the way!"

Leon flinched at the profanity before bursting into helpless laughter which echoed around the glade. Gwaine was grinning, though his teeth were set so it was more of a grimace.

"Gwaine, seriously," Leon tried, needing to make sure. It would be just like Gwaine to hide an injury, even at a time like this, with humor. Gwaine hid a lot of things with humor.

"Leon, seriously." Gwaine was going to play this one till the end. "You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. You try having a really full, really huge—"

"Okay, okay, forget I asked," Leon said, trying to clear the memory.

"I can prove it. Do you want to see me?"

"No, no, I think I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Definitely."

"Okay, good. Then leave me by this tree. I can't take a piss with people watching."

Leon stopped. They hadn't gotten far from the cave entrance, but it was far enough. "I'll turn around."

"Yeah, you will, and you'll walk on. I'm serious, or this is going to take way longer than it has to. And it's cold, and I'd like to get back inside soon," he added.

Leon glared at him, but he could stand well enough with the help of the tree, and Leon hadn't actually planned to drop his drawers for him, so…

"Fine. Let me know the second you're done. And no heroics, understand?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to see?" Gwaine winked.

"God, you're incorrigible."

"I know," Gwaine beamed.

Shaking his head, Leon walked on ahead. He could at least take care of his own business at the same time.

Gwaine took the precious time alone to pull himself together. He was definitely in a lot of pain, though that was lessened somewhat when he relieved himself. But the real problem was that they were catching on to his tricks. Merlin, definitely, and Leon, probably—even Arthur, who was really bloody perceptive when he wasn't being a selfish prat.

Gwaine wasn't used to knowing people long enough that they got to know him. He wasn't used to people calling his bluffs and recognizing his tells. The less other people thought of him, the more advantage he had.

But certainly it wasn't like that with friends? With comrades in arms? Surely he could drop the act in front of them and admit that he wanted nothing more than to simply curl up and die only he was too bloody scared of dying?

No, Gwaine decided. It was because he cared about them that the act had to stay up. He couldn't have them worrying about him. Especially not Merlin, who had too much resting on him already, more than anyone knew. Especially not Arthur, who had a kingdom to run and men to think about. Especially not Leon, who was balding already, poor darling. Especially not Percival, who was like a brother to Gwaine, nor Lancelot, who was way too empathic for his own good. He couldn't let them worry about him. He wasn't worth it. He loved them too damn much.

And anyway, he was Gwaine! He could bloody well take care of himself! When people worried about him, it was usually that he'd had too much to drink and maybe wouldn't get home all right. Certainly not—

"Gwaine?"

With an effort, Gwaine drew himself back out of his musings. "Yeah," he ground out.

"You done?"

"Yeah."

Leon stepped out of the trees, pleased to find Gwaine still leaning on the same tree he'd left him at. "Better?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Okay, let's get you back to bed before Percy gets lonely."

Gwaine snorted appreciatively, though he did strongly suspect that the extra banter and joking around was a reflexive reaction to his own response to stress. Still, it helped. So long as everyone was pretending.

He was exhausted by the time he got back to the bedroll with Percival.

"You cold or hot?" Leon asked as he settled him in.

"I don't even know," Gwaine said, staring at the ceiling. "Too tired to care."

"Fine," Leon said, pulling the blankets over Gwaine's shivering frame, though he also felt his brow and found it quite warm. "Try and rest for a few more hours. Can you do that for me, Gwaine?"

"For you, baby, anything."

Leon chuckled. "All right, I'm serious, Gwaine: sleep."

"Yes, Dad."

"Don't call me 'Dad.' It's weird."

"Okay, Dad."

Leon sighed deeply. "You're hopeless."

Gwaine closed his eyes.

"I know."