[Merlin] Drabble: Don't
So, after finishing my daily word count limit for day two, I went ahead and watched episode 3.08 caught up on Merlin - then promptly wrote this for the prompt "campfire hotness" over at merlingwainebar . Words fail me at how great Eye of the Phoenix was. And the bridgekeeper! I hope we see more of him. Er, fangirling aside, let's get to that drabble.
Title: Don't
Characters/Pairings: Gwaine/Merlin
Word Count: 393
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fluff! UST.
Summary: A missing scene from 3.08. Gwaine and Merlin share warmth even if the campfire is more than enough.
Disclaimer: Not mine, characters belong to the Beeb.
The fire is warm and welcoming and Merlin inches closer to the spray of sparks to feel the warmth of it seep into his skin. He reaches out with his hands, closing his eyes, and feels the magic flowing through him, extending into the flames and making them burn higher, faster, longer.
“What are you doing?” Gwaine’s sleepy voice snaps him out of it, and Merlin tosses him a sheepish smile before shrugging. “Come over here, I’m cold.”
Merlin raises an eyebrow, not believing that for a second, but moves closer all the same. “Are you sure you’re not just exaggerating?” he teases lightly. Gwaine silences him with a press of lips on his and Merlin jerks back in surprise. It’s his turn to blurt out, “What are you doing?”
“This,” and one of Gwaine’s arms snakes around his waists, pulling him close until their bodies are flush together. The warmth that seeps into his skin this time is more comforting and alive than the fire had been capable of providing and Merlin leans in, basking in it, until he remembers himself and squirms. “Don’t,” Gwaine’s voice is tight, “just … stay.”
Since Gwaine isn’t trying to force him or coerce him into something he doesn’t want, Merlin just rests his head against the crook of his friend’s neck, breathing in the sharp twang of alcohol and the sweet smell of flowers. Only Gwaine could smell like that, just like that, his tired mind points out, and he breathes in deeper. He wonders what the other man tastes like, too, and tentatively runs his tongue along the long line of his neck. It’s just as sharp, just as sweet, and Gwaine shivers at the touch.
“Don’t,” Gwaine warns again, desperate, and Merlin stops, uncertain of his own actions. “Just sleep.” Merlin struggles to keep his eyes open, to protest that he wants to see where this could lead, but after a long day of traveling, he’s too tired to not give in and rest. “Maybe another day,” Gwaine whispers, brushing a hand through his short hair almost reverently.
Merlin smiles and shifts into a more comfortable position with his head resting against Gwaine’s chest. The blanket is thrown over them both, locking in their warmth, and Merlin drifts off into sleep with the steady thump, thump, thump of another’s heart beating just for him.
Title: Don't
Characters/Pairings: Gwaine/Merlin
Word Count: 393
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fluff! UST.
Summary: A missing scene from 3.08. Gwaine and Merlin share warmth even if the campfire is more than enough.
Disclaimer: Not mine, characters belong to the Beeb.
The fire is warm and welcoming and Merlin inches closer to the spray of sparks to feel the warmth of it seep into his skin. He reaches out with his hands, closing his eyes, and feels the magic flowing through him, extending into the flames and making them burn higher, faster, longer.
“What are you doing?” Gwaine’s sleepy voice snaps him out of it, and Merlin tosses him a sheepish smile before shrugging. “Come over here, I’m cold.”
Merlin raises an eyebrow, not believing that for a second, but moves closer all the same. “Are you sure you’re not just exaggerating?” he teases lightly. Gwaine silences him with a press of lips on his and Merlin jerks back in surprise. It’s his turn to blurt out, “What are you doing?”
“This,” and one of Gwaine’s arms snakes around his waists, pulling him close until their bodies are flush together. The warmth that seeps into his skin this time is more comforting and alive than the fire had been capable of providing and Merlin leans in, basking in it, until he remembers himself and squirms. “Don’t,” Gwaine’s voice is tight, “just … stay.”
Since Gwaine isn’t trying to force him or coerce him into something he doesn’t want, Merlin just rests his head against the crook of his friend’s neck, breathing in the sharp twang of alcohol and the sweet smell of flowers. Only Gwaine could smell like that, just like that, his tired mind points out, and he breathes in deeper. He wonders what the other man tastes like, too, and tentatively runs his tongue along the long line of his neck. It’s just as sharp, just as sweet, and Gwaine shivers at the touch.
“Don’t,” Gwaine warns again, desperate, and Merlin stops, uncertain of his own actions. “Just sleep.” Merlin struggles to keep his eyes open, to protest that he wants to see where this could lead, but after a long day of traveling, he’s too tired to not give in and rest. “Maybe another day,” Gwaine whispers, brushing a hand through his short hair almost reverently.
Merlin smiles and shifts into a more comfortable position with his head resting against Gwaine’s chest. The blanket is thrown over them both, locking in their warmth, and Merlin drifts off into sleep with the steady thump, thump, thump of another’s heart beating just for him.