Work Text:
“Wait, what?” Merlin asks.
“You’re going to learn how to wrestle, Merlin,” Gwaine explains patiently. Merlin blinks a couple of times, trying to comprehend this turn of events. Mostly, he’s trying to remember how exactly Gwaine managed to lure him onto the practice field without him realizing.
“I know how to wrestle,” he finally says, folding his arms. Gwaine responds silently with a sure you do, mate look that makes him scowl. “I do. Besides, why exactly do I suddenly need a lesson?”
“You need to be taught self-defense,” Gwaine says, as though it’s an obvious answer.
“What do you think Arthur has been teaching me for the past three years?”
Gwaine, naturally, scoffs and makes a waving motion with his hand, with that action dismissing Arthur and all of his self-defense classes. “Let’s face it, Merlin,” the knight says cheerfully. “If you go hand to hand against, well, anyone, you’re screwed. I mean, you’re passable with a sword, and you’re a scrappy fighter, but if someone gets their hands on you, what are you going to do?”
Use magic, he thinks. Aloud, he says, “kick them in the balls and run?”
Gwaine grins at him. “I knew you’d fight dirty. But that tactic isn’t going to work if someone has you pinned down.”
“Then I won’t let—“ Merlin begins, and is abruptly cut off when Gwaine jumps at him, hitting him hard and knocking him to the ground. He flails instinctually—all elbows and knees—and just barely manages to keep a grip on his magic, reminding himself that no, this isn’t an attack, this is just an idiot. He gets in one good strike with his elbow to Gwaine’s torso, but then the knight presses him into the soft, muddy ground, straddling him and easily pinning his hands above his head. Merlin wriggles for a moment and then stops struggling with a sigh. “That was cheating.”
“You expect your opponents to play fair?” Gwaine asks, not letting up. “Now, your opponent has you pinned. What do you do?”
Merlin tries to think of an answer that does not include magic and comes up with nothing. “Er…”
“Use your legs, Merlin,” Gwaine says, amused. “I know you’re flexible.”
He flushes and Gwaine smirks at him and he takes the opportunity to bring his legs up and into Gwaine’s back as hard as he can, making the knight lurch forward. Merlin takes advantage of this to squirm his way out from beneath Gwaine and then tackle him from the side. He knows he’s not going to win—how in the hell could he, when Gwaine is entirely sinewy muscle?—but he does manage to hold his own for a couple of minutes, the two of them rolling through the mud, each trying to get a good grip on the other. Gwaine finally gets the upper hand and flips Merlin onto his back again, resuming a straddling position, this time lower down so that Merlin can’t try the same trick again.
“You’re bollocks at this,” Gwaine says, grinning at him through a smear of mud across his face. “Let’s hope you never actually need to wrestle.”
“I thought the idea of this was to teach me?”
“In theory,” Gwaine says. “So, what would you do now?” he asks, reaching up to pin Merlin’s wrists again. His weight is comfortable, his body stretched the length of Merlin’s, his grip gentle but firm as he holds Merlin’s hands down.
Merlin huffs, looking up, and then slowly grins, making Gwaine raise his eyebrows. “This,” he says, and grinds his hips upwards into Gwaine’s. The surprised look on the knight’s face is totally worth it, especially when he loosens his grip just enough for Merlin to arch up and kiss him. He misses, just by a tad, meeting the line of Gwaine’s jaw instead, but Gwaine makes a noise of surprise, turns his head, and then he’s right on the mark. Gwaine is pliant, opening his mouth to let Merlin in, releasing Merlin’s wrists and propping himself up to keep his weight from pressing down on him.
Merlin pulls away long enough to growl, then rolls Gwaine to the side, slipping a leg between his and covering his body partially with his own. He cups the back of Gwaine’s neck, twining his fingers into his hair and pulling gently; Gwaine tilts his head back, allowing Merlin better access to his mouth, which he takes full advantage of while Gwaine’s hand come to rest on Merlin’s hips, pulling him closer.
“Feisty,” Gwaine pants when they part for air, Merlin biting his lower lip gently as he pulls away. “I knew you fought dirty.”
“Shut up and get me out of the mud, you beast.”
“But you look so good covered in mud,” Gwaine says innocently.
“I should make you lick it off,” Merlin says, scowling down at his dirt-covered arm.
“Well now, there’s an idea,” Gwaine says with a wicked grin.
Merlin leans down over him again, groping to the side until his fingers latch around a particularly nice clod of dirt. Then, giving his own particularly wicked grin, he smushes it right into Gwaine’s face and jumps to his feet while the knight sputters. “But you just look so good covered in mud,” he parrots, and then runs for it while Gwaine is still wiping the mud away, his expression stupefied.
“Just you wait until I catch you!” Gwaine shouts after him, and he laughs.
“I thought that was the idea!” he shouts over his shoulder, and sees Gwaine hurtling after him. He is going to be in so much trouble.
…Totally worth it. Especially if they put that licking bit to the test.