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Country people did not celebrate birthdays.
The feasts and parties were a noble’s prerogative, but, even for commoners, coming of age was a special occasion.
That was how Percival found himself in the closest big town's tavern, with practically all the village's population of young men to cheer him on.
They had left in the late afternoon. As the sun began to tint the fields with its golden-hour rays, the small trail overrun by weeds and wildflowers had become a road.
The weather was serene, as Percival himself felt: he didn’t need anything more than he had.
Percival’s closest friends had different ideas.
Knowing of his inexperience, they had decided this was the night he got laid. Their excitement had spread to every boy following them to town.
They were more invested in his success than Percival himself.
Taking his own parents as role models, he always thought he'd just know when it was the right time. He would make a family with someone he really cared for.
Even so, he happily followed his friends. He enjoyed their exuberance and joy, no matter the cause.
☾
The night had started with John’s attempts to woo any lady who would listen to him, on Percival’s behalf.
Many ladies were more convinced when they looked at Percival rather than by the words of his friends, which usually made them laugh and turn away.
As woman after woman laughed at the young men’s attempts and as mead and beer flowed, Percival was feeling pleasantly drowsy.
A barmaid showed interest in him, but the look in Percival's eyes seemed to make her understand nothing was going to happen.
The tavern was warm and cosy. The villagers had mingled around, enjoying the novelty of the bigger town. Percival had gone back to their table after a while, looking at all the different people from there. A lot of people were coming and going. Many of them looked like travellers or pilgrims.
The ruckus increased steadily and the flirting became more and more unsuccessful. Eventually getting drunk was all they were doing.
Percival's stature gave him a higher tolerance, so he fell behind in getting drunk.
He was now sitting alone at the table. A couple of boys had already fallen asleep on the benches.
Around him, many empty mugs that no one had had the time to bring back.
Percival nursed his own mead. The lads had splurged to allow him to have this evening for himself without thinking about money, and he quietly pondered how to thank them properly.
He took a sip and looked over at John, giddily flirting with an older blonde woman. She was looking at him fondly, but more like one looks at a child than at a lover.
Percival smiled at yet another failure.
"Hey there, Sir." Slurred a stranger drawing out the vocals, sliding to sit across the table from Percival. He carried his own pint and looked unconcerned by how much sloshed over the side as he moved.
The first thing Percival noticed, as his gaze turned from the scene across the room, was the flurry of hair. Perfectly wavy and lush.
He had never seen such beautiful locks, not even on a woman, but the low warm voice was definitely not ladylike.
They looked incredibly soft for a man in such a poor state.
The second thing was that the guy was drunk. Besides the smell, his gaze and the way he sat, a bit lopsided, his slurred words were almost a parody of drunkenness.
He raised his own tankard as a form of cheers and the stranger — who on second glance was also more beautiful than any lady Percival had ever seen — happily clunked his pint against it.
He did so way too strongly. The mugs made a loud metallic noise and more alcohol spilled. The stranger mumbled something and immediately returned to his overly cheery expression, fully focused on Percival.
"So, you’re a man now. You're a big lad for your age." His smile widened as he looked at Percival. "They tell me you're in town for a shag."
"So it seems." Percival smiled. Plenty of men had stopped by during the night to cheer him on or wish him good luck on losing his virginity. His friends had offered a lot of them drinks, which seemed to give everyone a good disposition towards Percival.
"Very well." The dark haired man said conspiratorially. He tried to lean in, but almost fell, he decided to get up and go around the table to lean on Percival himself instead.
Percival wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or the man simply was too drunk to realise, but he was really handsy. He was squeezing at the base of Percival’s neck, his shoulder, the back of his arm, as he mumbled something Percival couldn't seem to understand.
Percival found it funny; he’d never met a drunkard quite so outgoing, and the accent he spoke in had a pleasant tingle to his ears.
As the man leaned in, Percival could also feel the other's muscles, soft chest pressing on the bare skin of his sleeveless arm. He found himself thinking this man was more muscular than he let on by just looking at him.
The drunkard finally managed to stop fumbling and sat at his side, keeping one hand around Percival’s shoulders. He looked focused.
Since the man was not talking anymore, Percival turned to look at him and met the stranger's eyes boring into his own.
For a moment all the noise of the tavern seemed to disappear. All there was, were those deep brown eyes. Almost pure black in the low light, so deep they felt like an abyss… and they pulled at something inside him.
Men or women, Percival had found out pretty early on he didn't have a preference, but the intensity of this stranger’s gaze intimidated him.
Percival suddenly felt hotter and turned his head, feeling overwhelmed by these eyes, so hot, and by the way the man looked at him with hunger.
He pointedly took a swig of his mead to ignore the heat pooling in his lower belly.
"So, your first time, hm?" asked the stranger.
"Yeah…"
The dark-haired man finished his drink and then stole an half empty one on the table and finished that too. "Let me tell you something."
Percival turned and their eyes met again.
"I do not usually fuck knights, but for you I'll make an exception."
Percival was confused by multiple parts of this solemn declaration.
"I'm not a noble," he pointed out.
The stranger’s expression morphed. His dark eyes, watery, and the upturned eyebrows made him look like a confused dog. He stared at Percival up and down, like there was no other possible explanation in his mind for a commoner to be so muscular and tall.
Quickly his confused gaze turned back to outright leering at Percival's body.
Percival felt that hot wave again. He had to be honest with himself, the man's attentions were not unwelcome and he supposed the stranger picked up on that.
"Then it's our lucky day, isn't it?" the dark haired man murmured. He squeezed his shoulder softly, before trying to get up.
He swayed multiple times. Finally, he got on his feet using Percival — still seated — as a crutch.
Then he got closer and whispered hotly in Percival’s ear, "Come on… I want to taste you.”
And Percival really shouldn't have found that so sexy, but his cock got hard as wood and he had never wanted to fuck someone as much as he did then.
Following the other man — he didn’t even know his name yet — seemed only natural. His friends wouldn’t even notice he was gone.
He got up and let the drunkard lean on him, half helping him walk straight as the dark-haired man picked up yet another mug from a passing barmaid and gestured, saying:
"I know a place."
✧
The place, it turned out, was a haystack in the back of a barnyard. The night was warm and no one seemed to be walking that part of town.
The emptied mug had been abandoned on a window’s sill, uncaringly.
As soon as they were alone, the drunk man had started licking and kissing Percival’s neck — which had made it harder to walk and had riled Percival up beyond words.
Now they had stopped walking. The man had pulled him closer, leaning back against a wall, to have Percival cage him with his body.
Percival's cock was pressing on the smaller man's abdomen and he could feel an answering erection pressed on his leg.
"Now, get naked, big fella. I'm aching to have you inside me."
"Percival … ah - my name is Percival…"
"Mm-hhhhm."
The drunk guy had started undressing him, and Percival wasn’t sure he had heard, as he seemed to be way more interested in his happy trail and where it led.
Percival’s shirt was gone and his breeches halfway lowered, but in his impatience the stranger stopped tugging his breeches down and instead sank to his knees to lap at Percival’s cock like a starved man.
Sloppy kisses were pressed along the tip.
The hot softness of his mouth swallowed Percival’s length half way in a smooth, wet, slide.
Percival swayed and felt his body couldn’t keep him up under the wave of sensations.
With more effort than any of his peasant work had ever required, he moved the man below him and they fumbled on the dry grass, rolling in the hay until Percival found himself face to face with the stranger again.
"You can put it in."
Percival looked at the man under him, the dark hair sprawled and so lush that it seemed full of falling stars with the reflection of moonlight.
He hesitated.
"Don’t we need, uh. Preparations?"
"Don’t worry about me. I can take it," the stranger replied while moving down to lick at Percival's nipple.
As a hot wave of arousal flowed through his body, Percival felt his cock leaking. He couldn’t take this sweet torture anymore, so he decided to trust this man, whose legs were spread invitingly below him.
Percivival tried to move slowly, sliding just the tip in the tight entrance, the pressure and heat making him feel overwhelmed, but the other man hurried him.
He guided him, pulling and pushing with the same fervour he seemed to do everything with. At the same time — in an unexpected display of tenderness — he whispered sweet nothings in Percival’s ear, cooing and calming him down as he got deeper and deeper.
"You're doing so good,” the man murmured. “Going steady for me. You'll make an amazing husband."
Percival had his eyes shut tight with concentration. He could feel by the rhythm of the other man's breathing and the hitching in his throat, that he wasn't taking it as easily as he had boasted.
Still, the man groaned, "Keep… yes, don’t stop."
Percival felt the stranger’s arms and legs wrapping around him as he coaxed him to get closer and deeper inside him.
Once Percival felt he had bottomed out, he buried his face in the soft hair.
The sweaty smell of the man mixed with that of the hay, a sweeter perfume lingering close to his skin — as of soap used many days before.
They were both panting, but the stranger recovered quickly, starting to writhe below him and clenching his hole's muscles in a way that made Percival feel swallowed and so good, too good.
"There, sweetheart, start moving, please."
And he did. Slowly dragging out and back in at first, but with the very vocal encouragement he got he soon tried a faster pace.
The other man’s cock was bouncing between them, leaking with precome. Percival finally opened his eyes and looked at the body underneath him, that shameless display of arousal making him even hotter.
The other man was just panting and moaning now, seemingly too overwhelmed by pleasure to talk dirty. That sent another wave of pleasure through Percival.
Soon, Percival felt he was at the edge, and on instinct he quickly jerked the other man off as he started spilling inside him, feeling him clench in pleasure around his cock.
Percival came harder than he ever had in his life. He felt the rush overcome him. He stilled as all his muscles contracted in waves.
His whole body tensed one last time, then he felt the final wave of relaxation hit and he couldn’t even take his dirty hand away from the other man's cock before slumping down.
His cock was soft, still nestled in the heat of the stranger’s body.
Percival’s left hand was trapped between them.
He felt too good to care.
Sated.
He hoped the man below him felt half as good.
☾
After a while, Percival realised he couldn’t feel his arm.
The stranger had fallen asleep.
He figured he should move and gently raised his body; in doing so, his cock slipped out. The squelching sound of his cock and come sliding out was not as obscene as the loud moan the sleeping man underneath him made. And seeing his seed flow between the man's legs did things to Percival he didn’t know he could feel.
He felt a primal pull to just push it back in and fuck the stranger again as if he could really be his wife and bear his child.
Instead, he found his handkerchief and tried to clean him up as best as he could — which wasn’t much.
The image of the stranger waking up still covered in his come wasn't too bad either, but Percival was raised to be kind, so he earnestly tried his best to leave the other man in a decent state.
Once he was done he sat back to look at the man sleep.
The moon highlighted a criss-cross of scars across the stranger’s whole body.
He looked a completely different person now.
More peaceful.
Like he had left his fervour and sorrows in the waking world.
The kind of sorrows only the Goddesses could soothe.
Percival instinctively ripped a small piece of ribbon from his cloth. With familiar motions he gave it his blessing, and tied it to the stranger's necklace.
Old superstitions his aunts taught him. Performed so often to soothe himself and then his siblings that they had become second nature. Yet it comforted him.
The sleeping man stirred, half waking. Percival felt a surge of love within and couldn’t help but kiss him again.
"What's your name?" he whispered softly. Lips brushing lips.
"Gwaine," came the half-sleepy reply in a mumble.
"Thanks, Gwaine."
But in the shade of moonlight, Gwaine was deep asleep.
Percival walked back to the tavern alone. He and his friends had promised to be back home by sunrise to help with the livestock, so he couldn’t linger.
He took care to leave a farewell message for Gwaine via the barmaid, who gave him a knowing look and a last birthday gift: herbal tea for all of them on the house.
Before dawn, they were heading home.
✧
[Two years later]
✧
A big rumble and a boulder fell between their enemies and them.
“Who's that?”
“Don't know, but I'm liking him already!”
When Gwaine looked up and saw the two men who had timely saved them from Cenred's undead soldiers, he was doubly appreciative.
One, because they saved their lives. Two, because they were damn handsome.
The man who had pushed down the boulders looked almost perplexed to see them there, when he looked down, but even with his mouth open in an ‘O’ shape he was incredibly good looking.
The shorter one – from what he gathered – was Lancelot. Merlin had told him about Lancelot.
The taller man, he had no idea of his name, but he was the tallest, most muscular, and handsomest man he had ever seen.
There was a lot to look at.
He had been fighting for his life for weeks now; he was allowed to get some respite! And the tall stranger was definitely a sight for sore eyes.
He was now getting introduced to Arthur, and even the prince — who usually tried to hide his sentiments — was ogling him and looking swept off his feet at the strength of the man.
Gwaine kept to the sidelines, talking with Elyan, but really only paying attention to the newcomers.
Damn, look at the size of his biceps!
He had his chance for introductions later, although Merlin must have told the taller newcomer his name already, because the man came to shake his hand, greeting him happily.
"Gwaine!"
Gwaine shook his hand, looking up to the huge grin that was so sincere it felt disarming.
"That would be me! And what might I call you?"
That smile faltered and Gwaine felt the familiar pang he might have done something wrong. He always said inappropriate things, but this time he was pretty sure he had not done anything strange!
"Percival. From Mercia, near Hanbury."
"Nice to meet you! Went to a market in Birmingham once, great music and even better food. Camelot doesn’t fare much worse," he said with his best charming smile, "I'll show you around once we are done with this battle."
"Sure."
With that they had to get moving.
Gwaine was sure they'd have time to spend some time together after the battle.
Sex or not, Percival looked like a nice guy to hang around with.
✧
In the following days they didn’t have many chances to talk.
Their fates grew dire.
Gwaine threw him his most flirtatious smiles, but the big man usually looked away shyly.
Gwaine’s mood was getting sour, but he didn’t let it show.
Percival was obviously most comfortable around Lancelot. Arthur and Elyan had bonded with him pretty easily. Merlin too, but he had a way of charming everyone that was almost supernatural.
Only Gwaine felt his efforts to get the big man to feel at ease were failing.
For the most part, Percival talked to Lancelot or gave some silent nods in the way of conversation, and seemed to keep his distance.
Gwaine liked a challenge. He could tell Percival was not outright rejecting him, and the fact encouraged him in his idea of winning him over.
Then they got to the Ancient Kings’ Castle.
Getting knighted threw him off his game, and that night he did not feel like talking.
Maybe that's why Percival chose then to approach him.
Percival shared a piece of bread with him, before talking.
"Knights… I thought you didn’t like them."
"Who told you that?"
Gwaine asked, perhaps a bit too snappy, because Percival looked truly hurt.
Damn those beautiful pure eyes of his.
"Never mind. It's complicated. But Arthur…" he glanced at the prince talking with Merlin a few feet away, "He's alright. You should not doubt his goodness." Gwaine concluded looking pointedly at Percival.
Percival nodded and they sat in silence for a while.
"You are perfect knight material, by the way," Gwaine added, trying to lighten the mood and disperse the dark clouds above his own head.
Percival smiled.
"I was thinking you might say that."
Gwaine wasn't sure if he had scored a point or lost ground, but Elyan called him for their first turn to keep watch and he left Percival to be alone again with his own thoughts.
☾
The sun shone brightly when they were dispatched to go to recover Gwen.
The decisive battle had been won and Arthur gave his new knights orders to escort her back to Camelot.
Not knowing if they should expect trouble, Arthur had been extra cautious. After seeing him kiss Gwen, Gwaine could understand why.
Gwaine knew Lancelot wasn’t too keen on seeing Gwen — he’d gathered some love trouble, might have to ask Merlin about it later — but right now he had the perfect chance to speak to him alone.
They stayed outside the ruins to guard the horses, while Percival, Elyan, and Leon went inside.
Gwaine approached Lancelot and asked, "So, what's the situation with Percival?"
"What do you mean?"
"Women? Men? Married? Scary lover I should be aware of? You know, just to see what my chances are."
Lancelot laughed.
"Come on, help us out!" Gwaine yelped.
"Us?"
"Yeah, if I get laid it would be a favour to me and to him!"
Lancelot raised an eyebrow and Gwaine smiled dashingly, waiting for his charms to do their work.
Finally, Lancelot shook his head and answered.
"No wife. No preferences. I just suppose he's too old for one-night stands who'll forget him the next day."
"Nonsense, who could forget about him?" Gwaine asked huffily. "If I take him to bed, rest assured, I'll treat him right." Gwaine said with a wink.
Lancelot looked unimpressed.
Still, he had been helpful.
"Thanks for the tip, Lance!"
It might have been the victory over Morgana or the beautiful day, but Gwaine was feeling quite hopeful.
✧
Peace felt real.
The threat of Morgana had not vanished, but in a few weeks it seemed too distant to worry about — and avoiding worries was what Gwaine did best.
Training with his fellow knights wasn't too bad. The exercise kept his thoughts at bay. And afterwards, it always gave him something to talk about or complain about.
Especially something to talk about with Percival.
Something neutral to start the conversation.
Gwaine had found his overtly explicit flirting attempts just made the other knight close up, so he had adjusted his strategy. The downside was that the more they talked, the more it was evident how sweet and attentive the taller knight was.
Percival was direct.
It made Gwaine uneasy, with how much he admired the simple way Percival went around with his heart on his sleeve .
Unlike Gwaine, who covered every bit of honesty with jokes and flirting, the other man was disarmingly sincere.
And the more Gwaine spent time with him, the louder the lurking voices that drove him to drink grew. Gwaine was not worthy of him. Why should he even dare to hope someone so good would stoop to Gwaine’s level?
And each passing day he was surer that Percival knew it, too.
Which was surely why Percival always seemed to keep a distance between them. It was subtle, but Gwaine could feel it perfectly, even when he could not pinpoint any evidence.
Percival didn't let loose with Gwaine as much as he did around others.
"Gwaine? I said you're patched up."
"Uhu?"
Merlin laughed at him.
"If you're so absent-minded on the field too, I can see how your arm got hit."
Gwaine looked at his forearm, now perfectly bandaged.
"Yeah, right. Thanks, Merlin!"
He patted Merlin's shoulder but didn’t get up.
"You're welcome."
Seeing the knight wasn't going along, Merlin leaned back on the table.
"You know, if you move now you can still get to the end of training. I think Arthur wants you all to do some jumps today," he joked.
"He does like us jumping… but speaking of sweaty men. Do you think Percival likes me?"
Merlin's eyes shifted from laughing to mischievous: a look Gwaine loved to see, but which right now he was too distracted to appreciate.
"Likes…" Merlin dragged out the word. "Well, Percival likes a lot of people. I suppose you are one of them."
"Merlin…" He looked up at Merlin with a pout. "You know what I mean… He's not warming up to me…"
"The two of you are always going around together, just because he's not falling at your feet asking for sex doesn’t mean he hates you." Merlin said matter-of-factly, interrupting Gwaine’s moping.
Despite that Gwaine's frown only deepened.
"It’s not about sex— alright not just about sex," he conceded after Merlin's pointed look. "I just feel something's off. The other day we were sitting side by side and when Elyan joined us he slid aside to have Elyan sit between us… And the night before, I asked him if he was walking to his room and he said no, then went that way with Lancelot… And-"
"Yes, I get the point." Merlin looked at Gwaine pitifully.
The knight looked up at him expectantly.
Instead of giving him a helpful answer, Merlin asked, "Why does it bother you so much?"
"I just don't like it. We are supposed to be friends, but…" Gwaine trailed off, not liking any of the ways he could have finished that sentence.
Once again Merlin looked at him with eyes that looked wiser than his age. Gwaine averted his gaze.
"He likes you, Gwaine. We all do. He just needs time… to get to know you. I wouldn't lie about this." Merlin shook his shoulder to get him to look up. "After all, even you and Arthur got off to a rough start, and look at you two now!"
"Right."
Gwaine smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it.
"Speaking of his Majesty, I'd better go back or the whole town will hear him complain. See you later, Merlin."
As he left the tower, he mulled over Merlin's words.
✧
A night like any other, at The Rising Sun, Gwaine left the other knights’ company for a chance encounter with a lovely lady.
A good amount of alcohol and shagging could still lift his spirits, albeit temporarily.
When he got back, Percival was gone.
He sat by Elyan, “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
Elyan looked amused.
“I’m surprised you got back.”
Gwaine laughed.
“I was hoping to ask Percival to carry me back to the castle,” Gwaine joked with a melodramatic yawn. “He’s the best when it comes to drunken support.”
Elyan smiled briefly before turning pensive. He seemed to ponder if he should speak as he nursed his beer and finally decided to.
“And that has nothing to do with how much you like Percival’s big arms?”
“Don’t we all?”
“Not as much as you.”
Gwaine was definitely not sober enough for the tone this conversation was taking. He gulped down some more beer for comfort.
“And what’s it to you?” He asked carefully.
“Nothing. Just wondering why you keep sleeping around if you’re interested in him.”
Elyan’s kind eyes watched as Gwaine frowned. He spoke again before he could get a reply.
“I know how it is going from one place to the other with no ties,” Elyan said softly, “But we are here to stay, now. You keep acting as if it’ll all end tomorrow.”
“And who’s to say it won’t?” Gwaine retorted. He knew Elyan could understand his vagrant life better than anyone; he should understand this too.
The pleasant buzz of the sex and beer turned bitter.
“Come on.” Elyan reached for his shoulder in a soothing gesture. “We’ve wandered so long. Camelot is a place to rest. You wouldn’t have become a knight if you didn’t believe it.”
“I believe it’s worth fighting for.”
“Right. Our people are worth fighting for. Take your own advice, yeah?” Elyan looked at him kindly and let his grip go.
Gwaine knew he was right. It was just better when fighting for something meant an undead army, rather than having to fight oneself.
☾
"What did you mean?"
"What?"
Gwaine turned to Percival, looking at his face to find his honest gaze looking at him like a cloudy sky.
"Earlier. ‘Never knew you cared’, what did you mean?" Percival spoke low, like he didn't want the other knights — starting camp just a few feet away — to hear them.
Gwaine remembered and laughed nervously.
"Nothing. We need some humour in these dark times, you know…"
And times were literally dark, as the dorocha infested the realm and chilled the air with constant shrieks.
Gwaine trailed off, but Percival kept staring, trying to get the truth by opening him up using his eyes as a sword.
Gwaine went back to fixing the ropes for securing the food from wild animals. Trying to ignore it, until he couldn’t.
He could feel Percival’s presence, towering beside him, and Hell, if they were about to die he might as well be honest about it.
He turned to face him.
"I just didn’t think I really mattered to you."
Percival moved closer, now looking a bit intimidating.
"Everyone here would have done the same for each of us."
Gwaine shifted nervously.
"Of course! I know. I was just… surprised you came back for me."
Percival looked at him questioningly.
The way in which Percival was studying him was starting to become unnerving.
Too serious for Gwaine’s taste.
"I'm surprised you even realised I had fallen back," he tried, bracing for the usual joke about Gwaine being loud and noisy and how everyone noticed he was gone by the silence.
But Percival stayed serious.
"I do notice when you are not around and I do care about you."
Gwaine felt self conscious, feeling his skin burn.
"Do you?" Percival asked.
Gwaine swallowed.
"Do I what?"
"Care about me?"
Before Gwaine could answer, Elyan shouted a warning and they had to regroup to fend off the ghosts.
That night and in the following days they weren't able to talk again.
☾
The morning after they got back to Camelot, Gwaine felt positively amazing.
A proper bed and proper food would do that to a man.
So he thought, happily, as he got ready for the day: winter was coming to an end and Camelot was blessed with a rare sunny day that made Gwaine long for spring.
Somehow, miraculously, they had all survived. Arthur and Merlin had managed to close the veil or persuade the Old Creepy Lady to do it — the details were not that important to Gwaine. He was knocked out, and when he came to, all was fixed.
They even managed to get some horses, making the journey home faster and thankfully uneventful.
Uneventful except for the small shift in Percival's behaviour.
It seemed their talk had really struck a chord, because the big man now seemed to be pointedly doing things to show him how much he cared.
Sitting closer to him even as the other joked about his smell.
Lingering by his side longer than usual.
Smiling more.
Well, the last one could be because they all avoided death one more time, but still.
Gwaine kept noticing and, as much as he was grateful, he was silently panicking.
Percival wanted to be a good friend, but all his gestures were just making Gwaine fall more in love with him by the minute — yes, love, he had finally admitted it to himself after facing death for the umpteenth time — and Percival really deserved better than him.
But that day he was not going to sulk! The knights had a day off and he was going to get drunk and get laid, his tried and true method to forget all sorrows.
Yet, his plans soured slightly as he got to The Rising Sun and saw Percival.
Beautiful Percival.
Somehow showing a sun-kissed chest despite the cold week they had spent travelling and fighting.
He figured he could say hi before finding company. It wouldn’t be the first time he had excused himself to have some casual sex with someone he had just met. Most of the time he even managed not to feel guilty about it.
"Hi there, Sir," he said cheerfully, joining his fellow knight.
Percival smiled, raising his glass, "Just like the first time we met."
"What?"
Percival laughed, shaking his head a little.
"You truly do not remember, hm?"
Percival was looking at him with a mix of endearment and something Gwaine couldn’t figure out.
"Seriously, what are you talking about?"
"Hanbury tavern, the Royal Oak, or so it was called when I was young." Percival took a sip. "Twenty-one years old and a virgin. Then not, anymore, thanks to you."
Percival raised his tankard to Gwaine, whose mind was swirling in confusion and then disbelief and then oh. No.
A series of curses flowed through his mind as he put together the pieces.
All the times he joked about having sex together came to mind into an embarrassing quilt of shame.
He was used to a fast recovery from any fall, but this felt a bit too much even for his standards.
He looked at Percival without seeing him.
Gwaine tried to think of something to say.
He'd taken this incredibly handsome man's virginity and he didn’t even remember it.
The more he thought of it, the angrier he got with himself.
"Was it good, at least?"
Gwaine wanted to punch himself for asking, but the self-defence humour had kicked in before he could stop himself.
Percival watched Gwaine's expression shift from one emotion to the next like a carnival wheel, though the look was mostly torment.
"It’s ok." He gave him a reassuring smile. "The sex was great. It was naive of me to expect you to remember it."
Gwaine slid further down his chair, slumping. Not only had he forgotten sex with the man he loved — possibly burning all his future chances with him — he’d forgotten GREAT sex he had with the man he loved.
"You were so drunk." Percival smiled at his memories. "Besides, after I learned how your life was before Camelot… Well, I shouldn’t have held a grudge for so long." Percival concluded.
They sat in silence for a while.
All around them the tavern's customers shouted and chatted like they didn’t have a care in the world, while Gwaine felt his own loneliness like a knife.
It was Percival who filled the silence.
"This doesn’t change anything, Gwaine. We're still friends. I still care for you."
"Right," Gwaine replied quietly.
"And I know you'll keep having sex with strangers," Percival smiled, "I don’t hate you for it."
Gwaine nodded, trying to digest all that had been said.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, because that was all he could think to say.
Percival smiled at him.
“No harm done.”
That seemed to close the argument for Percival, but Gwaine still had so many questions.
“If we had sex and it was good… Why have you turned me down all these years?”
“I don't go for casual sex, anymore. Never, really. First time was an exception too.” Percival’s cheeks grew one shade pinker at the admission.
Gwaine was mentally berating himself even harder for being so inconsiderate. Had he truly obliterated all his chances with Percival?
"And what if I wanted to…" He let the sentence fall off into silence.
Again Percival picked it up for him.
"To what?"
"Have a chance with you again?"
"No promiscuity. Just stay with me. You stayed in Camelot, for the right person, right?"
"Right…"
Percival leaned closer to Gwaine, half standing and holding himself with a hand on either side of Gwaine. Gwaine had always known those muscles were a weapon, and now they were being used against him.
Percival spoke low, looking at him in a playfully menacing way. "And if we ever fuck again I'll be sure to pound you so hard you'll never be able to forget it."
Gwaine gulped, definitely worried and definitely turned on.
He watched Percival go pay for both their drinks and leave the tavern.
Percival’s words were echoing in his mind. The entire conversation gave him conflicting emotions.
He finished his drink alone.