A little gift in honour of the day...

St. Gwaine's Day

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"Merlin, I have decided that today is not a day for work!"

The warlock raised an eyebrow at Gwaine's sudden declaration, instantly wary. "Is it not?"

"No. Today is a day for enjoyment. I wish to do something fun!"

"Are you aware you make demands and pronouncements the exact same way the prat does?"

Gwaine drew himself up to his most haughty. "I'm stung by your scurrilous comparisons between myself and her Princessness, so to make it up to me you will accede to my orders. Fun is what I wish and fun is what you shall give me."

A corner of Merlin's mouth twitched, but he restrained himself from laughing. "Well, I suppose I could take you for another ride in my plane."

"I think not."

"I could show you what a roller coaster is."

"That won't do."

"Take you out for ice cream?"

"Inadequate."

"We could do your reading lesson using the latest Playboy."

"You mean that book at the news agent's? With the...?" Then Gwaine remembered his mission. "No. While I admit that intrigues me, not today."

Merlin, knowing full well where this was going, just barely managed a smirk. "Oh, and what's so special about today, then?"

"It is - or so I am told by the magic scrying box and the man Guinness's painted shields that are hung about over all the village - a holiday."

"So it is."

"And, if I'm to understand it, it is a holiday that entails, nay, even requires us per ritual, to go to the tavern and celebrate the Gods' gifts of fermented beverages."

"Actually, it's to celebrate St. Patrick, the man who brought Christianity to Ireland," Merlin corrected.

"But we do that by enjoying parades and parties and pretty tavern wenches, do we not?"

Merlin bit his lip, still struggling to control himself; he'd forgot how artless Gwaine could be with his wheedling. (Or artful with his artlessness, it was hard to tell.) "I suppose so," he said, "at least according to the marketing departments of various distilleries."

Gwaine slapped Merlin on the back. "So, by the Gods' great goat testicles, my friend, what exactly are we still doing here, locked up in the house? There's a whole world of taverns out there, Merlin, who have yet to become acquainted with the greatness that is Sir Gwaine of Camelot!"

"Gwaine..." Merlin began. He had seen where this was going, yet still not recognized the immensity of the of pile of horse droppings he was about to wade into.

"Merlin, mate," Gwaine said seriously, "we need this."

And so Merlin bit his tongue and held back all of his feeble protests and reservations and the two went off. The truth was, Merlin was worried about the Knight. Gwaine needed excitement, but more than that, he needed purpose, and by purpose he meant something more than just studying history and the lay of the land. Therefore, if Merlin could not yet give him one, he could at least do his best to occasionally provide the other, if only so that look of wanderlust in the Knight's eye would be damped down a bit. That Gwaine was worried about him in turn didn't occur to him, but the fact was they hadn't had a night out with just the two of them since their days in Camelot and so Merlin's reluctance died pretty quickly.

-x-

Somehow, they found themselves on a coach to Birmingham. Once there, they let loose - there was the kissing of girls and parades and gambling and cheering both sides of a local football match in the street, while Merlin (almost certainly unwisely) introduced Gwaine "the man Guinness" as well as Mr. Jameson (whiskey), Mr. Jim Beam, Mr. Johnny Walker and even Captain Morgan. By the time they stumbled into a karaoke bar, they were well primed. The landlord, who was about as Irish as a 1950's Disney leprechaun, had them up singing "Danny Boy" and "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" to the entire gathering.

Later, once they'd mellowed to the schmaltzy part of drunkenness, there was the catching up of two friends:

"It's true! I once made an Emperor swineherd of Bulgaria!" Merlin insisted. "Wait, no, other way round... I made the Bulgarian the Emperor of Swineherd! Yes, yes, that's it!"*

"Bollocks, you did!" Gwaine shouted, fairly impressed.

"I did, I did. Ivanho... no, Ilo, no wait... Any case, I told the prat that *hic* once when he was going on 'bout royal bloodlines and proper breeding or some other load of rubbish. But the best thing was that Gwen was shtanding," Merlin tried again, "standing just behind him. She shaid, 'I feel I should 'mind you, Arthur dear - NO! RE! REmind you - that a blacksmith's daughter ruled your poxy kingdom for far longer than you ever did!' "

"Lizzen, is that when Arfur, Arker, when Princess had to sleep on the floor fer a week?"

"Yep... Boy, yer drunk, my friend. Yer swaying like the Tower of Pizza 'bout to fall."

"The what?"

"Pisa. Leeza. Mona Leeezzzzaaa."

"I only look like I'm swaying cause yer swaying!"

"Don't be supid. Shtupid. Foolish. I don't get drunk 'less I want to. Spent whole flipping lifetimes bloody drunk. That's what happened with the shwine, swine... pig farmer. Was coming off a twenty year bender - take that you lightweight!" Merlin pointed at his friend while laughing uproariously. "Made him blashted Emperor before I knew what... what I was doin'. That and that thing with the horses! Bloody hell, but horses are damned boring conlervationsts... converlationists... talkers!"

Gwaine furrowed his brow; there was a clue there he should be paying attention to, he felt, but he couldn't figure out what it was. "Any road, mate, did you have fun today?"

"I had SOOOOOO much fun! This was the best idea ever, you... you! Should be celebrating you, that's what! St. Gwaine!"

"I'll bloody drink to that! St. Gwaine's day!"

Merlin raised his glass. "All hail St. Gwaine's day!"

-x-

Hours later, when he'd been tucked up in his bed by a grumbling Percival, a memory ghosted across Gwaine's mind. Whole lifetimes drunk?

Merlin, meanwhile, had no regrets until the next day when he spotted the tabloids at the market, cover pages emblazoned with tales of talking horses.

"Oh, Gods, not again!" he moaned.

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* This is a real thing. In 1275? a swineherd named Ivaylo worked his way into becoming Emperor of Bulgaria. I'm hoping to do a drabble about this story later on.

Thanks again to all of my reviewers, especially Ash9 - never have I had so many emails at one time and had them ALL been reviews! I loved it!