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Mordred had expected many things when he buzzes Gwaine in through the intercom - lewd jokes, liters of alcohol, impossibly perfect hair. You know. Things one should always expect from Gwaine, since they were the very things that made him himself
What he hadn't imagined was to see his easygoing friend looking anxious ans running his hand through his hair. His face had a apologetic expression that immediately put Mordred on his guard.
"What did you do this time?" He asked, in lieu of hello. He might be the newest member of this little gang of theirs, but he was already quite familiar to his shenanigans.
"Nothing!" He answered, looking kind of offended as he walked in . "Why does everyone think I'm always doing something wrong?"
Mordred raised an eyebrow at this. The answer was pretty obvious. Gwaine didn't seem to take the hint and kept waiting for an answer. He sighed - this was so perfectly Gwaine.
"I've known you for just about six months and I've bailed you out of jail six times already. Three times for drunken disruption, two for public nudity, and that you still haven’t explained what exactly you were doing with a Pineapple, on a train, with nothing but a Hogwarts cape on and fist fighting a sign." Mordred shook his head, trying to take the image out of his head. "Also drunk, if I recall properly."
Gwaine merely shrugged.
"I called Arthur that day. Not my fault the princess dumped it on you."
Mordred grinned at this. He had been somewhat upset at being woken up in the middle of the night by his boss, telling him to fetch another employee he barely knew out of jail. It had been the first time he hung out with Gwaine, and not a pleasant one, but the man had a charm that made it impossible to hold a grudge against him. It also didn't hurt that being thoroughly able of handling drunk, arrested Gwaine had made Arthur truly notice him for the first time since he had started on the job, separating him from the horde of fresh-out-of-college, wide-eyed, inexperienced new employees at Pendragon Industries.
"I didn't do anything this time, I promise." Continued the man, tossing him a smile. "Although it is still shy of midnight, so I won't totally discard it yet."
Mordred smiled and shook his head. He was often left to wonder if his colleague made it his life mission to make his life harder of if this was just one of the many perks of life with Gwaine, generally speaking. And for all his (their) complaints, there were many.
For starters, Gwaine knew all the best places to go. He made it his responsibility to scout the town to find exactly where they'd go next. Nights out with Gwaine were always epic, if often painful and possibly humiliating.
The second big positive point were free drinks. For one reason or another, he was always getting those - from men and women he flirted with. And Gwaine was a shameless, equal opportunity flirt. He'd make a pass at anything that moved (on the train incident, there had also tried flirting with the sign as well, whose lack of response and continued smirk had made Gwaine write the man down as a homophobe and start a fight; so probably moving wasn't strictly required), and somehow the free beverages would also trickle to his friends (this particular gimmick involved singing Spice Girls too, of all things).
The third bright side was the amount of gorgeous people he seemed to attract. It was a non-stop parade of attractiveness and it seemed that whatever shone out of him bathed them all. Sure, their little group had already its fair share of beauty all around; but they weren’t the incestuous kind — generally speaking — and would find their hook-ups elsewhere. Gwaine always made sure people scored; if they were so inclined. Mordred couldn’t even count the number of men Gwaine had introduced him in their short acquaintance — and if someone caught his eye, or Merlin’s, he’d immediately set it up; and if the person at first decided they wanted to bed him, he’d always claim to be straight and send them away, even if he was about as straight as… Well, a non-straight thing. Like colorful cocktails with swirly straws. Springs, perhaps. Or Captain Jack. Any of those.
So, yes, Gwaine was a trial and often a handful (handsy, he was handsy too); but when he looked at Mordred with that hurt puppy face, he couldn’t stop grinning and shaking his head; ready to help.
“Okay, so out with it — what do you want?” he asked, getting mentally prepared for something that he would regret in the morning. “Pub crawl? Strippers?” Gwaine frowned at him, probably he was thinking too small “No, no — I know — pub crawl in Berlin with strippers!”
Gwaine just shook his head, his face still tense.
“Merlin asked me out.”
Mordred was particularly glad he wasn’t holding anything; he was sure he’d have dropped it on the floor.
“What?”
“Merlin asked me out.”
“What… When… How did that even happen?”
Gwaine walked to the sofa and set down, burying his head in his hands.
“Earlier today — I met him in the cafeteria during my break — and we were talking about Bonfire Night, and I suggested we skipped the bonfires and just went straight into mischief night in my apartment.”
Mordred scratched his head. It seemed like a very normal conversation to him. Well, as normal as if could a conversation be when it involved Gwaine.
“And then he said ‘it’s a date’, as if it were the most normal thing in the world!” complained the man in front of him.
He could to nothing but snort.
“I don’t think can be called him asking you out, Gwaine.”
The man raised his head and nodded after a moment.
“Yes — yes. That’s true, I supposed I asked him out.”
Mordred just shook his head.
“I don’t think he meant it — I mean, I’m sorry, but he was just teasing you back.”
“He texted me half an hour ago saying he was at the supermarket and asking what he should bring for us to drink tomorrow!”
It was his turn to frown — because it sounded a lot like a simple case of misunderstood signals and Gwaine freaking out about a possible tumble with one of his friends while the other was planning a small party. And knowing Gwaine, he was probably already having panic attacks thinking about how it could become a relationship, his very own boggart. The idea of Gwaine, of all people, in a relationship was simply ridiculous. Oh, well. Riddikulus.
“Still, this doesn’t sound like a date.”
“He said ‘it’s a date’. Why would he say it’s a date if it’s not a date?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. He tried to stifle a giggle.
“It’s just a thing we say!” Mordred explained, patiently. “It doesn’t mean he is planning to dine and wine you before seducing you on your living room carpet.” Gwaine raised an eyebrow at that, and he felt himself blushing at the unexpected visual, before dispersing it all with a shake of his head. “For starters — this is Merlin we’re talking about. Any attempt at seduction would probably end in tumbling and unexpected injuries; specially after a glass of wine. Also, this is Merlin. Your best friend of years. I’m pretty sure if he ever considered bedding you, he gave it up long, long ago for the sake of his health. I love you, mate, but you’re a safety hazard.”
Gwaine wasn’t amused at his little speech, openly pouting now.
“He did ask me out, I’m not imagining things. Well. Said yes. Same difference.”
Mordred just gave up and sat down on the floor in front of him, resting his arms on his knees.
“Alright, mate. Whatever you say.”
“He did!” Gwaine insisted. “He held my hand and everything.”
Mordred leaned his head to the side, with a small smile.
“Yes, I think we’ve all done more than that. You have hold hands, cuddled, been sprawled on laps and french kissed all of us. We’ve all played the part of boyfriends and girlfriends — and both of you have always been affectionate. Not exactly a milestone there.”
Gwaine took a deep breath, looking right into his eyes.
“He kissed the corner of my mouth.”
“Are you sure he didn’t just miss your mouth? He has a terrible aim.”
“He didn’t miss — and then he blushed.”
That gave Mordred a stop. It was one thing to tease, or even plan a party — even a full on kiss wouldn’t be as damning, because that could be just another layer of teasing — but a kiss on the corner… It was deliberate. More than that, it was Merlin’s version of flirting; both the kiss and the blushing; and they both knew it first-hand. They just looked at each other for a moment, as that sank in.
“You have a date with Merlin.”
“I have a date with Merlin” repeated Gwaine.
“Tomorrow” Mordred continued, with a deep breath. “Well, congratulations, I guess?”
Gwaine shook his head, seeming desperate, and Mordred couldn’t help but pat his head, trying to control the urge to run his hand through his lovely locks.
“It’s okay — it’s okay. You can just tell him it was a misunderstanding — he won’t be mad, really.”
He looked up at that, shocked.
“I don’t want to cancel!”
That was something of a surprise — more from the dating point-of-view than for his lust over Merlin. It was kind of a thing — it was not too hard to lust over Merlin, really, with all those lovely cheekbones and plushy mouth — not to mention his endearing personality and long limbs. Morgana usually said that a person that did not want to take Merlin home was not a person to be trusted, and Mordred privately agreed.
“So don’t cancel” he shrugged. “Wine and dine him — it’s not that hard. I mean, you must’ve done the whole dating thing one day.”
“Shagged the waitress” agreed Gwaine.
“Maybe not mentioning that would be better” Gwaine snorted. “Oh, who am I kidding? He knows, doesn’t it?”
They all knew — far too much — about Gwaine’s sex-escapades. There was no such thing as “too much information” in his vocabulary.
“Well, since you’re staying in, I don’t think this will be a problem. It’s just Merlin.”
Gwaine let out a small whine at that, and Mordred raised his eyebrows again.
“Alright. So you enjoy his company, he’s easy on the eyes and you have a date with him. What exactly is the problem?” There was no answer, and an idea occurred to him. “You don’t want me to cook, do you? I’m terrible at this — ask Gwen; or Elena.”
“It’s not the dinner that I’m worrying about, it’s…”
“What?”
The man muttered something under his breath, not looking at him. It sounded suspiciously like a whimper. Mordred could feel the tension coming out of him in waves.
“Gwaine… Do you like like him?”
He shrugged and shook his head noncommittally. Mordred felt throughly alarmed.
“Gwaine!” he said, sharply. “Do you like him?!”
The man nodded, still not looking at him. Mordred felt his patience wearing thin and pushed him up, forcing Gwaine to face him.
“Are you mucking about?”
“Pretty serious, mate” was the answer. Still, he did not looked thrilled as much as terrified.
“So? You know him. It’ll be fine. Wine and dine him and by midnight you’ll have him in your bed.”
Once again he said something Mordred couldn’t really understand. With a sigh, Mordred crossed his arms.
“Look, you came over here to tell me that — so whatever it is that you’re worried about, you’ll just have to tell me in a volume I can hear.”
He saw Gwaine gulping, and wasn’t even shocked at his next words.
“Dining is fine. Wine is fine. What should I do in bed?”
Mordred snorted.
“My Merlin expertise is very outdated, mate” he said, willing his teenage memories back inside the box they belonged. Mordred and Merlin had grown up door to door with each other, and even if Mordred was some three years younger, Merlin had always been kind to him. In High School, that kindness had transformed in… Something else. If it had broken his heart to watch Merlin leave for college, no one needed to know. Still, they had remained somewhat friendly, and Merlin had been the one to arrange for him to be interviewed at Pendragon Corp; and after that, they had rebuilt their friendship without any inclination towards less pure pursuits. “I think ten years is rather too much.”
“Please,” Gwaine pleaded. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”
Mordred shook his head, but there was no denying Gwaine when he wanted something.
“I don’t know. Merlin’s very… relaxed. And open. Maybe don’t start too kinky?” Gwaine nodded at that, agreeing. “Just do your thing, you know. Whatever magic technique you have developed over your ridiculous number of shags. When the lights are off, he’s not different from any other bloke you’ve shagged.”
“Yeah…” Gwaine said, looking at the ceiling. “That’s sort of the problem.”
“What is?”
“I haven’t.”
“Haven’t what?”
“Shagged another bloke.”
Mordred could feel his brain literally freezing — he was absolutely sure this was what a blue screen of death felt like. This made absolutely no sense — and not in the usual Gwaine no sense sort of thing. It just didn’t add up.
“Excuse me?” he gasped, eventually.
“I’ve never shagged another bloke” Gwaine repeated.
Mordred just shook his head, gobsmacked.
“Gwaine, I’ve seen you chatting up plenty of blokes…”
“I didn’t…” he mumbled back.
“Gwaine, you’re the freaking poster child for bisexuality!” Mordred knew his voice was steadily rising, but he couldn’t control it, he was the one panicking now. “And that is not even a figure of speech — you were in the bisexuality awareness poster last year!” he knew this wasn’t helping, but for once words seemed to spill out of him, getting higher pitched as he continued. “You’re the most bisexual person ever this side of science-fiction. You flirt with everything that moves — I have lost count of…”
“I know!” he yelled back. “I know, Mordred, don’t you think I fucking know? And, yes, I have chatted up many blokes. I’ve even kissed some of them. I know full well I’m bissexual. But I have never bedded a man. Are you happy?!”
“Why on earth not?!” Mordred shot back immediately, trying to wrap his head around it. “It’s not lack of opportunity…” he started, and then the penny dropped. “Oh. Oh. You were waiting. And not just waiting, waiting for Merlin. Because you don’t like him, you love him.”
Gwaine shrugged again.
“Always have” he confessed, finally. “It felt right to wait.”
Mordred could only shake his head at this. It was too, too much. Far too over the top, and part of his rationality just broke down.
“I don’t believe it — you never wait for anything. I’ve seen you slipping into the bathroom with a girl’s friend because she took too long to get you a drink. This is a prank — you’re pranking me. Where are the cameras?” He looked around, but no one seemed to be busting and calling in the joke. “Gwaine Greene, waiting for someone special — no. Just no. Nope. This is not serious.”
But the man’s face was pained in front of him, half hidden by hands, and Mordred felt sorry for him. If this was indeed the case, it had taken a lot of guts for him to come out and say it out loud; and to a person that barely knew him. Or maybe this was the reason he had come to him for help and not another — not because he was Merlin’s ex, not because the two of them were the only gay men around — except for Merlin himself, and wouldn’t that be an awkward conversation — but because he would be the one to handle it without making a spectacle out of it. Mordred had always been a very discreet person. Breathing steadily, he composed his thoughts once again, before speaking.
“When you say you never bedded a man… Do you mean you have never bottomed or…?” he gulped, willing the words out in spite of his burning face. “No penetration with a man at all?”
Gwaine moved his head to the sides, raised his shoulders, clearly unsure of what how to respond.
“Gwaine.” He said, trying for make it simple. “Have you ever had anal sex?”
It sounded weird, as if he suddenly had become a doctor or a sex ed instructor. He wasn’t cut for this. Ugh.
“Have I ever… Come on, mate. What do you think?”
“I think you just confessed to be in love with your best friend of almost a decade and to not bedding men — so excuse me if I am asking stupid questions.”
“With girls, yes” the man answered, twisting his hands. “Not the same.”
Mordred nodded slowly. He considered his next words for a second, but this was Gwaine; there wasn’t really a point in beating around the bush.
“Topping or bottoming?”
“Both?” And of course he wasn’t even surprised by the answer anymore. It made perfect sense. He had dated Morgause in college, and she made absolutely no secret of her love of pegging. “But it’s… not the same.”
“No” agreed Mordred. “I suppose it’s not. Okay, then, what about blowjobs?”
“Are you seriously asking me if I ever got a blowjob? Because I seem to recall you walking in…”
“Let’s not” Mordred said, shuddering at the memories in his head. “But never from a guy, and never given one either?”
He just shook his head, looking away. Mordred had never felt second hand embarrassment so keenly; at the same time, a small, vindictive part of him thought Gwaine deserved to feel a taste of his own medicine.
“Right. What about hand-jobs?”
“No — just no. No jobs of any kind. I’ve never… I’ve never even touched another’s guy junk in that situation.”
“Frotting?” Mordred was at the end of his rope here; and it seemed way too surreal considering both Gwaine individually and man in clubs in general.
“No.”
He just shook his head at that, looking at his friend’s blushed cheeks. Part of him was pretty sure he was dreaming, because that made no sense in the real world, the world where Gwaine was constantly wrapped around someone else, getting finely acquainted with his or her tongue.
“You’ve got to give me something, mate” Mordred said, exasperated. “I have no idea what to say — I don’t even know where to start. I mean. You know, right? What’s supposed to be done?”
“Theory is not the problem” confirmed the man with a nod. “I came to you because… Practice is.”
Mordred didn’t even worry about his neighbours as he screeched at that.
“If you’re saying what I think you’re saying…” he started, but Gwaine’s eye became saucers and he held up his hands.
“No — no.” The man scratched his head. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re lovely — and totally a catch — and I completely would if it weren’t for the whole…”
“Being in love with my ex thing?”
Gwaine just gave him a dope grin.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Then the words trickled in, and he frowned. “That’s not weird, is it? I mean — asking you for sex advice because I’m hoping to sleep with your ex?”
“It’s totally weird” he informed. “But it’s you — we’re all used to your weird. As I said before, I don’t think you need to worry; just… do what feels natural. Merlin won’t be expecting you to go over the top or anything; it’s not a show or a competition. Even if you’re not perfect, it’s okay. You don’t need to be sort of sex expert — not with him.”
Gwaine sighed, and Mordred truly thought the crisis had been controlled, but then he spoke again.
“It’s not… I don’t want to prove anything. It’s not like that, I just… I just want it to be good for him. For us. I want to do this right — and this means being prepared” his eyebrows wiggled as he noticed the double meaning. “And, well… I don’t really know how. So, weird or not, can you help me? Give me some tips, or… I don’t even know, I’m just… I really need your help”
Mordred looked at his friend; truly did and thought of all the things he could have expected. He thought of how much he sometimes felt like an outsider, how even Merlin, who had been almost kin to him, sometimes would subtly leave him out of jokes or comments, he thought of how much he truly liked all of them and how much he had hoped they’d start to see him as an equal and not their younger brother… And now here was Gwaine, opening the heart they often joked he didn’t have, and asking him for his help for something that clearly meant a lot to him. So he answered the only thing he could have answered.
“We’re gonna need Foxy Pops, a nail clipper, and some moisturizer” he said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Tonight, we knight you in the ways of the queer.”
It was going to be a long night.