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"Trauma and Resus, go ahead."
"This is Alpha three six nine." Percy wastes no time with greetings when a case is critical, but over the radio Gwaine can hear it’s the Welsh doctor whose name he doesn’t know, but who is always exceptional at what he does, relief undoing a tiny bit of the tension thrumming through him while he monitors his patient. "We've got a seven-year-old female involved in an RTA, confirmed head injury, possible spinal involvement. Stable obs. ETA six minutes."
"Received and understood, awaiting on standby,” Gwaine hears through the radio.
"All good to go here," he calls, when Percy clicks the call off, in the back with their patient, Melissa. Percy puts his foot down, focused on driving, and Gwaine is forever grateful he doesn’t get carsick, because it’s never a smooth ride from where he’s standing.
The Welsh doctor meets them at the door, and as doctor in charge he starts giving his team positions, already putting on gloves as he listens to Gwaine's handover. "This is Melissa," Gwaine says, at his calmest when he has to present scary information in front of terrified children and their parents, knowing a worried paramedic never helps. "She's seven, and she's been in a bit of a nasty car crash. Arterial bleed from the left femoral, bleeding is controlled but transfusion likely needed. Loss of sensation in the left foot, and her right leg is feeling a bit tingly too so we've strapped her up in case her back's a bit knocked up. Nasty knock to the head,” Gwaine offers her a soft smile, keeping her as calm as possible, then lowering his voice. “Potential spinal injury, some tenderness and pain between C6 and C7 vertebrae, contusion to the head, full scans needed to see the extent of the bleeding and find any swelling, but responding okay so far. Sats are 92%. BP on the lower side but stable.Temperature 36.9. Her favourite colour is purple. Mum and dad were involved in the crash, they're on their way to see some of our other doctors, aren't they sweetheart? But this fella, he’s the best we’ve got.” Gwaine smiles at her, making sure she doesn’t think anything is amiss.
The doctor smiles too, easily following Gwaine’s lead. "That's right," he says to Melissa, and Gwaine watches him gently squeeze her hand both for reassurance and to test for response, glad when she squeezes back. "My team and I are going to look after you. It's probably going to feel a bit scary, but you've been so brave. I just need you to be brave a bit longer, all right?" He straightens up, speaking to the nurse in charge. "CT and radiography straight away please, see if we need to go to MRI, I'll put a call down to Elyan to get theatre prepped." He has little time to speak to Gwaine, who has to be ready for the next emergency call anyway, but as the doctor talks to the head nurse, Gwaine squeezes Melissa’s hand too.
“They're going to take great care of you, okay?" He nods when another nurse comes to wheel Melissa's gurney towards CT, touches two fingers to his forehead in a quick salute to Welsh Doctor before he turns away to find Percy, hoping there's enough time for a coffee and maybe a bar of chocolate before the next call, needs to decompress just a little after that. He loves his job, but even he can admit it's damn hard sometimes.
"Come on then lad," Percy chuckles when Gwaine is back in their ambulance, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm running through to Maccies before we get another call."
"Fucking hell, yes please. I'll wipe down as we go." He and Percy have a system. Because his handwriting is nothing short of dire, and his spelling is atrocious, Percy does the paperwork (even now they’ve switched to tablets). Gwaine cleans and wipes down the back of the van while he does. It works, they work, and Gwaine is more grateful for that than he can say.
"No you won't, you'll strap in and be safe. You're not going to be any use as a paramedic if you break something. You can do it when I run in for the food."
"You're so boring," Gwaine sighs. "And you have to drive the speed limit when we're not on a call-out, so I won't fall over anyway."
"It's not happening. I'm not getting the sack for you"
"Boring," he repeats, though he straps himself in anyway.
"One of us has to be."
"How'd you figure that?" Gwaine laughs, opening the glove box to see if there’s anything sweet he can scrounge.
"We'd get nothing done otherwise," Percy says, like it’s some pearl of wisdom. He pauses for just a moment before he adds, "You know, my offer to get his number off Elyan still stands. I saw you.”
"I'm not asking your boyfriend to get me a doctor's number. If I wanted his number, I'd ask for it myself." Gwaine pretends his stomach hasn’t knotted itself, uncomfortable at being seen through so easily.
"So why haven't you?"
"Patient handover isn't really the time, Perce."
"After your shift. You could pop back up to leave yours. You've seen him in the staff room plenty because I've been there with you. It's cute though, seeing you shy."
"I'm not shy," he protests, a hand over his heart as if he’s mortified.
Percy hums, unconvinced as he finds a parking spot outside McDonald’s. “The usual?"
"Yeah, but make it large. Thanks babycakes." This is easy, falling back into familiar banter, into their well-worn, comfortable friendship. Gwaine relaxes all at once, wondering why he was on edge with Percy of all people in the first place. Old habits die hard and all that.
"Anything for you, gorgeous," Percy grins back with an exaggerated wink, heading inside while Gwaine, true to his word, wipes down the van. The radio is still blessedly quiet while they eat, and Gwaine has learned to bask in these moments, to take what peace he can on shift.
"You doing okay, mate?" Percy asks after a few fortifying bites of a Big Mac, interrupting the pleasant emptiness in Gwaine’s mind. "That car crash was brutal, and I know how it is with kids."
Gwaine can’t help his sigh while he thinks of what to say. He’s better at this nowadays, at not just jumping to I’m fine, with the smile that’s all teeth and blank behind his eyes. "I've seen worse,” he ventures carefully after another moment. “And it's selfish as fuck, but I'm not the one who's going to have to tell her her dad bled out on the side of the road. So there's that. You?"
"Seeing worse doesn't mean that it wasn't awful. I'm all right though, thanks. I'm happy we did everything we could; that's all we can ever ask of ourselves. I'm just pissed off, like I always am, about people who drive high as a kite on some shit or other." Percy, on the other hand, has never struggled to talk about how he feels, or sharing his burdens. Gwaine almost envies him.
"Of course it was fucking awful, but we saved our patient and that's got to be enough. I'm glad we got her, I'd've had a tough time of professional if we’d have been the ones treating the coked-up driver."
"It's not our place to judge or decide," Percy says evenly, although Gwaine knows he isn’t questioning him, knows he gives his all to every patient in the moment. "You calmed her down after major trauma. You've got a magic touch with the little ones, I swear. I'm just too big and awkward to put them at ease." He shrugs.
"You say that like you've ever met an old lady you couldn't charm into being treated."
"We all have different skills," Percy says with another wink.
"Let's just hope the next one is a little bit less exciting, aye? I could use a good old-fashioned pensioner with COPD. Give them nebs, make them a cuppa, and off we pop after that."
"Fingers crossed.” Predictably, no sooner has he said so than the dashboard unit beeps to signify a call. "No such luck,” Percy’s voice comes thickly through a hastily-stuffed-in last bite of burger. He swallows what must be the whole bite in one, and Gwaine has to respect the effort. “Male, mid thirties, supported accommodation. Lacerations to arms and face. Psychiatric call,” he reads from the screen.
"Great, let's get going," Gwaine, taking Percy’s lead, shovels the last of his lukewarm fries in. Percy blue lights their way there, and so the night goes on, thankfully nothing as bad as that first call-out.
"What a shift," Gwaine sighs, world-weary as they trudge into the staffroom a little after 8am, throwing himself onto the sofa.
"Agreed," Welsh Doctor says from the nearby table, nursing a coffee and still typing out paperwork.
"Oh, hello." Gwaine looks across without moving, offering a small smile, all he can muster after the night shift. "My darling Percival here was just going to get us coffee, weren't you, honey? Get the nice doctor one as well?"
"On it, sweetie pie." Percy winks, putting the staff room kettle on.
"How was your shift?" the doctor asks, looking up from his work at last. "I hope it improved some."
"Would've been hard-pressed to get worse. And I only got swung at once, which is pretty good going."
He grimaces. "I know the feeling. Almost a relief to deal with appendicitis after we got the trauma case where she needed to be." Gwaine knows the doctor can't say too much while respecting confidentiality, but he knows he means Melissa, and he feels a tug in his chest even thinking about her again.
"Yeah, poor kid," Gwaine sighs, not asking for any more, though sometimes he does think about the worst cases, hoping they're okay. "Thanks Perce," he sits up to take the coffee, make room for his partner to sit next to him, resting his head on Percy's shoulder, not bothering to hide his yawn. "When are you back on then?" he says around it.
"Well, I'm supposed to have two days off now, but I'll be in tonight."
Not for the first time, Gwaine is glad he was never clever enough to be an actual doctor, although as a paramedic he’s done his fair share of overtime and working days off. "Ouch.” He screws up his face sympathetically. “Hopefully I won't see you around."
"No need to rub it in. Paramedics get days off, not like us doctors." He’s smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling just slightly, showing off even, if a little large, front teeth. Gwaine wouldn’t say his heart skips a beat, but he feels suddenly, just for a second, as if he’s missed a step on a staircase; that same jolt running through him.
“No day off yet; on every night til Wednesday now. I just mean I'm hoping to avoid paediatric trauma cases for a while.”
"Paediatric trauma cases are my bread and butter," Welsh Doctor admits. "Although I do the odd shift on adults, when they're desperate."
"Well then you're crazy. A hero, probably, but a crazy one."
"Not the first time I've been called that."
"Probably because it's true."
I can't argue that." Welsh Doctor yawns, shutting his laptop and taking a long drink of his blessedly hot coffee.
Gwaine drains the last of his. "I'm going home. See you around, doc."
"Most people call me Em. Or Merlin, given that’s my name. Take your pick.” He smiles, that same one that shows off his slightly overlarge teeth. Gwaine smiles back, can’t help it.
“All right then: see you around, Em." He pointedly ignores Percy's knowing look as they leave together.
"And you are?" Merlin calls after them.
"Gwaine,” he calls back over his shoulder, wondering if Merlin saw his wink. He drives them home, dropping Percy off on his way as he does every shift because it makes sense to car share when they both live nearby, and Percy spends their whole shift driving as it is.
***
Gwaine and Percy are on their third drink- and/or drugs-related run of the evening, though it’s with a slight note of pride that Gwaine is nothing but professional as he hands over to one of the A&E doctors even as his patient stands handcuffed to a police officer beside him. "I'm just trying to do my job, mate.” Gwaine recognises the accent immediately, casting a glance over to the next open cubicle where Em is standing. Even from here Gwaine can see the tension in the line of his shoulders, though Em’s voice is calm, as a guy with a shaved head gets right in his face demanding pain relief. "I need to finish examining you, and getting your observations so I can see which medications may be appropriate."
Gwaine forces his gaze back to his doctor to finish his own handover, though he's aware (and glad of) the movement of security at the doors
"I'm not going to tolerate language like that," Em says firmly when the guy calls him a poof, and Gwaine just about resists the urge to pump his fist in triumph. "You can either allow me to finish examining you, or go back into the waiting room until another doctor is free." Gwaine swears his heart stops for a second when he sees the guy take a swing, and it's only the fact that the security guards are quicker and closer that stops him abandoning his patient to intervene. His impulsivity has had him in trouble before, so he’s glad in the end that he didn’t, though he watches as Merlin keeps perfect eye-contact with his patient, who is being held by a security guard twice his size.
"I'm confident he isn't in immediate danger," Merlin says to the guard restraining the guy, with a cold edge to his voice. "Therefore he can leave and see someone at the walk-in tomorrow or his GP on Monday."
Gwaine wordlessly heads to the vending machine when he's finished his handover, gets the chocolate he's seen Em eating before and buys it, swiftly pressing it into his hand with a wink and a sympathetic smile as he walks past on his way back out, while Merlin speaks to the security guard.
Merlin startles a little but smiles, giving him a tiny nod of acknowledgement. Gwaine sighs heavily as he heads back into the ambulance where Percy is wrapping up the paperwork. "Just missed another one taking a swing at Dr Em. Fucking Friday nights."
"He all right?" Percy looks up, brow furrowed
"Yeah, security got there quick enough."
"Good. But he's tougher than he looks, you know. Bet he’s good in a fight. Scrappy," Percy says as he types in more or less the same thing he’s already written three times this evening.
"Still wouldn't want to see him taking a swing from a pissed-up brute."
"No, ‘course not."
"Or anybody else," Gwaine adds before Percy gets ideas. “Not just Merlin. Well, except you." He sticks his tongue out, climbing back into his seat in the van.
"Funny enough, people don't tend to try and punch me."
"I couldn't possibly think why." He laughs at the look Percy throws him, though it turns into a sigh when their tablet pings. "I swear to god, if this is another pisshead."
"Looks like it," Percy groans. "Male, early twenties, glass-embedded laceration, potential concussion with vomiting and bleeding from the head. Fell on the pavement and twatted the curb, basically. That glass makes me think a fight." He nudges Gwaine, who has closed his eyes in resignation.
"Classic. It's almost enough to put me off the drink myself."
"I'll check Hell's weather forecast."
"I said almost."
Percy rolls his eyes, though it’s nothing but affectionate. “Big smile, eh? We’re professionals.”
Their whole night continues in the same vein, and Gwaine is exhausted by the end of it as he heads to the staff room to get his stuff. Merlin offers him a smile, and Gwaine has to wonder if it’s the first time he’s catching a quick break all night. "Glad to see you survived the night," he says as he pulls a hoodie over his green uniform.
"Likewise."
"Well, just about,” Gwaine mutters, stretching out his back.
"Likewise," Em says again, resting his head on the table.
"You look like you need real coffee. Not this vending machine shite."
"What I need is about forty-eight hours of sleep, and then a good shag. Then more sleep. See me right."
"Can't help with either of those right now I'm afraid." Gwaine grins, proud of his very sensible answer, because he would absolutely and cheerfully help with the latter. "But I can and will go down to Costa before I get in the car."
"Don't put yourself out." It’s adorable really, how awkward Merlin is now, when he’s been offered coffee—never mind nearly being punched in the face.
"I'm offering. What's your poison?"
"Vanilla oat latte. Double shot espresso. Thank you."
"On it." He salutes as he did before, picking up Percy's usual as well while he's there, bringing all three drinks back to the staff room.
"I could genuinely cry," Merlin says thickly when Gwaine brings them, and isn’t that just heartbreaking?
"We've all been there," Gwaine squeezes his shoulder as he sets his drink down in front of him, unsure if he should offer a hug. He’s saved from having to try and figure it out by Percy's arrival, glad to be able to turn away for a second to give him his coffee.
"Ready to go?" Percy says before he catches sight of Merlin, his features settling into the sympathetically sad look he always gets when someone looks rough. Gwaine sees it plenty on shift. "Hey mate. All right?"
Merlin offers a weak smile. "I'm all right. You two get going. I need to get back.”
"Sure?" Gwaine presses, taking a too-hot sip of his own drink. He isn’t sure exactly why he’s trying to make sure Merlin is okay, especially when he’s the first person to claim he would appreciate being left alone, but he does.
"I'll have a breakdown if I'm honest about it, and I don't have time for that.” Em’s smile is rueful, self deprecating.
"Right,” Gwaine says decisively, impulsivity getting the better of him, “I know a man who needs a hug when I see one." He sets his coffee down, opens his arms expectantly.
"Excuse me?" Merlin blinks a little in surprise.
"I'm offering you a hug because you look like you need one," he says slowly.
"God, yeah, I do," Em admits, letting Gwaine come closer. He pulls him in, hugging him tight. Merlin holds himself stiffly for a moment before melting into Gwaine. It’s nice, even if Merlin looks wrecked and is only here because he needs someone.
"Thanks, mate. You don't even really know me," Merlin says into his shoulder, breaking Gwaine’s train of thought.
"Doesn't matter, don't mention it," he says, managing not to instinctively shrug.
"Thank you."
"Not a problem." Gwaine smiles his megawatt grin, stepping back when he feels Merlin straightening up out of the embrace.
"I'd better get back to it. See if I can keep my specs intact for another few hours," Merlin says with a laugh that’s only slightly forced.
"Good luck,” Gwaine offers, leaving with Percy. "Not a word," he warns as they get into the car.
"If you hadn't, I would have," Percy says evenly. "But he probably appreciated it more from you."
"I doubt that; you're very good to cuddle."
"I have to have something going for me," Percy chuckles, yawning.
"Mhm. Now come on, I'm dying for my bed."
"Me too, Elyan's home."
"Lucky you. I've got nobody but the cat."
"You know what I'm going to say," Percy admonishes around yet another yawn. He didn’t bother to wait for Gwaine to answer before he said it anyway. "Get that boy between your sheets and do us all a favour."
"And what if that boy doesn't want to be between my sheets? It's rare, I grant you, but it happens," Gwaine protests.
"He does."
"Asked him, did you?"
"I can see his face just as well as I can yours."
"He was about thirty seconds away from a breakdown. I don't think that's typically giving 'I really want this guy in my bed’. Percy, I can’t believe you’re making me come up with the sensible arguments. You must be tired, you’re getting delirious. You’re supposed to be encouraging me not to make stupid decisions, and fucking a doctor at work seems like a stupid decision.” Gwaine pauses, can’t resist adding, “Even if he's beautiful."
"See you tomorrow," Percy says sweetly, getting out of the car and walking up his driveway.
"You're a shit," he calls after him, winding the window down especially.
"Love you too," he calls back from the front door. Gwaine drives himself home, kicks off his uniform, and throws food at the cat’s bowl before collapsing into bed. Later, he’s glad to hear from one of the nurses when they bring in a kid having an asthma attack that Dr Em has the day off, though he doesn't mention it to Percy, not wanting to give him any more ammunition.
***
Gwaine is kneeling on the gurney, counting his chest compressions out loud in a harsh whisper. Percy shouts for the crash team who are already waiting after they called in as he rushes them through the door, handing over to Merlin to let Gwaine keep going; thirty-four year old male, anaphylaxis, 0.3mg of epinephrine administered by ambulance caller at approximately 13.22 and again by themselves at 13.31, blood pressure remains uncontrolled, entered cardiac arrest at 13.32.
Merlin jumps into action immediately, gloved up and directing one nurse to start oxygen and another to get fluids pushed through the patient immediately, even as he grabs the defibrillator.Gwaine doesn't move from the bed, keeping up chest compressions until the last possible moment.
"Gwaine, more epinephrine," Merlin says, sharp and no nonsense, voice free of any emotion in a situation like this. Gwaine is sweaty and pale from the exertion of CPR, but it doesn’t register as Merlin attempts defibrillation with no change to the patient's trace. He pauses for the half-second it takes for another dose of epinephrine before trying again. And so it goes until everyone in the room knows there is no more they can do; if it hasn't worked by now it certainly isn't going to, and the patient has been without a heart rhythm for too long. Merlin’s voice is heavy as he sets the paddles back on the machine and pulls off his gloves. "Time of death, 14.27. Thank you, everyone."
Gwaine is exhausted, his body running on fumes but he doesn't speak, just nods tightly. When Percy tells him to go and take five, that he'll deal with the paperwork and the clean up, he doesn't argue. He doesn't run but he walks out of the resus room too quickly to be casual, pent up with frustration, grief, and what-ifs the way he always is when they lose someone. It's part of the job, but he's never been able to just take it on the chin the way Percy always seems to.
The staff room is blessedly empty, nobody to hear Gwaine's wordless noise of frustration, nobody to watch as he paces a couple of lengths before he kicks at the armchair in the corner—and when that provides no relief punches the countertop in the tiny kitchenette instead. That sends a flare of white-hot pain through his hand, as gratifying as it is grounding.
Merlin comes in, presumably to grab a coffee before starting on lengthy paperwork himself. "Gwaine?"
"Don't," he says without looking around, carefully flexing his hand to work out how much damage he's done.
"Let me have a look."
"It's fine."
"I know. Let me have a look." Gwaine sighs but doesn't argue as he holds out his hand.
Merlin takes it between his own cold palms, curling his fingers around it to press in slightly, assessing for anything serious. There's a graze to Gwaine’s knuckle and a cut on one of his fingers where he snagged it. Em takes down the first aid kit, gently wiping the small well of blood with an antiseptic wipe. "Somehow, I think you'll be all right." He looks up into Gwaine’s face, and Gwaine realises how much closer to Em he is than he means to be. "It's a good thing that you care so much. But it isn't personal when things go wrong."
"Thanks doc." His voice is thick, much to his embarrassment. He wonders for one bizarre second if Em is going to kiss him, pushing that thought aside because it’s wildly inappropriate at the best of times, but especially now. "But things didn't ‘go wrong’. Someone died."
"And you did all you could." Merlin’s voice is quiet, and almost automatically he touches Gwaine’s cheek. Gwaine’s breath catches in his throat for an entirely different reason and he barely hears Em’s next words. "You're a good man and an exceptional paramedic. Percy is so lucky to have you."
He closes his eyes for just a second, letting himself take comfort in Merlin's touch before he forces his voice into something lighter, more himself. "Yeah, well. The big git will kill me if I'm not back before we get another call, and then you'll have twice as much paperwork to deal with."
"I hope the rest of your day goes better. Take care of yourself, please."
"No more punching kitchens. Got it. I'll see you around, Em. Or, well. Hopefully not, I guess."
"Exactly that. See you."
Gwaine gives his customary salute, heads out without letting himself look back. He falls into the rest of his shift, letting the rhythm of it carry him as they deal with things they see every day. At the end of it, Percy uses the staff showers to change and wait for Elyan's shift to end, since for once they're finishing around the same time. Gwaine heads down to Costa for a double shot vanilla oat and his usual, poking his head in the A&E office, gratified to see his suspicion was right. "Boo."
"Ahh," Merlin deadpans, not even looking up.
He sets Em's coffee down in front of him, dropping into the empty office chair beside him. “Here.”
At that, Merlin does look up. "How much do I owe? You're a lifesaver."
"Nothing, it's a thank-you overpriced coffee." Gwaine manages a smile, feeling steadier now.
"For what?" Em asks as he pulls open a desk drawer.
"Earlier." He shrugs, trying not to seem as embarrassed as he is.
"Oh. Well, you're welcome."
Gwaine peers into the drawer Merlin is concentrating on the contents of, seeing a veritable stash of chocolate. "I will have that twirl though, if it's going."
"I’ve just let you see the department's biggest secret," he says, passing it over and picking out a mint aero for himself. “Don’t go spreading it, because I’ll come after you.”
"There'll be no stopping me now," he grins, eating much more quickly than is probably decent. “I’ll be sniffing around for more of this.”
"Aren't you and Percy off home?" Merlin asks, changing the subject as he nibbles his own.
"Nah, he's got plans tonight, and I'm in no rush to get home to an empty flat."
"You're not going out tonight with him?" Merlin looks up from his screen again then, a slight furrow to his brow.
"He's had the pleasure of my company all day." Gwaine shrugs, easy because he sees Percy plenty both in and out of work, and he's pleased his best friend gets to actually spend time with his boyfriend.
"Well yes, but that's at work."
"We're not actually joined at the hip, you know."
"No but … far be it from me to judge, but I can't imagine going home without my boyfriend if we finished at the same time."
"My? Oh, Christ, no," Gwaine bursts out laughing, which surprises him even more than it does Em. "Percy is not my boyfriend."
“He's not?” Merlin’s brown creases. “What about the love-of-my-life talk and all that?”
Suddenly, Em's words from earlier come back to him, and he gets a handle on himself enough to say “we're just good friends. Actually good friends, not that type of good friends."
“Oh.” Merlin blinks before clearing his throat, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. "God, sorry, I just assumed...I thought you were keeping it quiet because otherwise you wouldn't be allowed to work so closely. That's my bad."
“Don't worry about it,” Gwaine manages, still giggling. “He's great, and Elyan is very lucky, but no.”
"That makes a lot more sense now. I don't speak to Elyan as much as I'd like to, so I never knew that.” Em seems to mull it over, turning back to his work for a second before looking back at Gwaine again. “So instead of going home, you're here to bother me?"
"Yup. Seemed a better option than an empty flat after a shit day."
"Paperwork? Really? I can't say I don't appreciate the company though. Been a tough one," Em sighs, letting his shoulders slacken.
"You can say that again," Gwaine says. “I mean, I might have mentioned something along those lines once or twice already.”
Em doesn’t seem to hear him. "Its been one of those days where it just feels like you're fighting fires rather than doing anything meaningful."
"Tell me about it. I have someone die on me, and then we go to two serial time-wasters back to back. Two." Gwaine puffs out his cheeks, blowing a slow exhale and running a hand through his hair, tugging it free from the bun he keeps it in for work so it falls in loose waves around his face.
"I'm still playing catch-up from that man this morning, then I've had three major cases. So I'm still finishing those off too. And I still feel like I should have done more for all of them,” Merlin sounds like he means it too, as if he genuinely believes he didn’t do enough.
"Oh no you don't.” Gwaine cuts him off before he can continue. “You attempted resuscitation for an hour."
"And it wasn't enough. I have a woman who will probably never walk again, and a young man whose football career is gone before it had a chance to start. I should have stopped both of those things.
"I don't believe for a second you didn't do everything you could for them both,” Gwaine says firmly, doesn’t even have to put it on. “You didn't injure them. Sometimes the damage is already done. Are you blaming the paramedics who didn't fix them before they got to you, too?"
"No, of course not," Em sighs again, and pauses, chewing his lip. "And I know that. It's just … shit."
"You’ll get no argument from me there.”
"Are you really all right? Losing a patient is the worst. I miss being able to go home to my mami when it happened like I did when I first started out."
"Yeah, I'll be fine,” Gwaine says, and he’s honest about it for the first time all day. “I keep telling myself the day it doesn't upset me is the day I quit. I threw up in the patient loos the first time I saw someone die." He smiles wanly, not ashamed of it anymore.
"I get that. I won't become a doctor who stops seeing the people he’s treating." Merlin takes another sip of coffee. "So … what made you become a paramedic?" They both know why he’s changing the subject, but Gwaine can’t say he isn’t grateful.
"Honestly? It was never my dream as a kid or anything, but I wouldn't change it now. I wanted to be a nurse, and I wanted to do that to piss my dad off. I got halfway through the first placement of my nursing degree, did a rotation in A&E, saw the paramedics coming in, and I was hooked. Swapped degrees and never looked back."
"I've seen a lot of paramedics. Some just don't give a shit."
"Some people would say the same about doctors. But here you are."
"And they'd be right. But here I am.'
"Are you going to be stuck here much longer? Because I'm all for playing the good Samaritan and keeping you company, but I am going to have to find us food if you're here for the foreseeable. I'm starving.” Gwaine swings the office chair he’s sat on from side to side, watching Merlin’s long fingers dance across the keyboard of the ancient hospital desktop computer.
"Another hour, if I'm quick. I had half an apple for lunch."
"That settles that, then. You're not allergic to anything? You never know when a guy orders oat lattes." He grins as Merlin shakes his head in answer, leaving his bag on his chair as he heads out to find food.
"I just like oat milk in my coffee!" Merlin’s protest echoes down an empty corridor. The hospital canteen and coffee shops close at a very respectable 5 and 6pm respectively so Gwaine heads to the Burger King on the next street over from the main entrance, getting Merlin a chicken burger, because it feels like the safest bet. "I was very restrained and didn't eat a single chip on the walk back," he announces when he re-enters the office.
"I think I love you," Merlin grins when he comes back with the bags.
"This is entirely self serving, don't you worry about that. Onion ring?"
"God yes." Merlin eats gratefully, eventually finishing his paperwork. "Fuck, I could sleep for a week."
"Do they ever let you have time off?" Gwaine nudges him, an almost unconsciously friendly gesture he gives Percy a lot.
"Yeah. I'm usually called in though. I knew what I was getting into, and I did volunteer to do the Christmas Eve nightshift for the people who have kids, but god if it isn't draining sometimes. At least I can see my mami for Christmas Day. And Will, probably."
"Someone's got to do it. Luckily for me, ours works on the same fouron, four off that it does the entire rest of the year.” Gwaine pauses before he gathers himself up to ask, “is Will your man then?"
Merlin barks a laugh. "He's my best mate. Known him since we were in nappies. Anyway, you shouldn't just assume everyone is gay," he says, though he's fighting another smile.
"If you were straight you wouldn't have assumed I was shagging Perce," Gwaine inclines his head. “Straight men also don't usually wear pride lanyards. Or drink from mugs covered in cocks." He gestures at the empty coffee cup buried among files and papers on Em's desk.
"You’ve got me there. I'm not straight, no. But I am tragically and eternally single." Gwaine makes a half-hearted noise of agreement, not letting himself acknowledge the flutter of hope in his chest to learn that. "Not many people can deal with a doctor's schedule, and when the hell do I have time to meet anyone?"
"Their loss," Gwaine shrugs. "Don't know what my excuse is though. I pretend I'm not jealous of Perce and El, but an empty flat gets a bit old. And the cat doesn't count; she bites my toes when I’m trying to sleep. But anyway, you should go home."
"Mm, I'm going soon.” Merlin seems to say it by rote, and Gwaine wonders just how many people pass comment on his workload. “I'd offer you a lift but you have your car."
"I'd be more worried about you driving right now;, you look like you haven't slept in a week,” Gwaine admonishes him, hearing Percy’s voice in his ears. It’s true, though: Merlin is so pale he looks almost grey, and the dark smudges beneath his eyes are beginning to make him look like he’s lost several boxing matches in a row.
"How else am I getting home if I don't drive?" Em laughs, a little manic, a little incredulous.
"Taxi? Bus? Oh sod it, where do you live? I'll take you if you want to leave your car. No offence taken if you'd rather drive yourself. I'm off duty; it won't be me attending your RTA."
"That would be nice. To not have to drive," Em admits, yawning wide in a way that if it was anyone else would be off-putting. He gets up, stretching out until his back cracks, and Gwaine pulls a face, picking up his bag at last to follow Em out. Gwaine has parked in the main carpark, sharing the annual staff parking pass with Percy since he drives him there and back most shifts, and it works out much cheaper than paying anywhere else. "Where are we headed?" Gwaine asks as they get into his beaten-up car, turning the heating on and praying it decides to work in the freezing dark of the late night.
"Over on Strathmore street. Lower town," Merlin says, leaning back into his seat as if it’s a luxury airline. "I hope I'm not too out of your way. Let me pay your petrol at least?"
“Don’t be daft,” Gwaine waves it off without even looking at Em, one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the radio. "You can buy me a coffee some time and call it quits. Heaven forbid someone do something nice for you, eh?"
Merlin gives him a sheepish smile. "They usually want something,” he says, with just a touch of venom, though it’s gone as soon as it was there. “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I'm just feeling sensitive."
"We've all been there."
"Mm. Times like these are when I really don't like being painfully single; I want a cuddle."
"I think we already established I am pro-cuddling."
Merlin laughs softly, and they spend the last few minutes of the journey in a silence that’s oddly comfortable. "Thanks again," Merlin says when they pull up outside his house. He doesn’t immediately get out of the car, tapping his fingers on the dashboard, "Do you er—want to come up?"
Gwaine’s heart rate picks up, hoping he’s caught Em’s meaning. "Yeah, all right," he says, easily, because Merlin is hot, and he's lonely too, and maybe Percy is right and he does just need a good fuck—then he can stop acting like a teenager with a crush around Merlin. If Gwaine has somehow misread the situation—and it wouldn’t be the first time—he's just as game for a coffee and some company.
Once they’re in Merlin’s cluttered, untidy but cosy little house, Gwaine stands just a little awkwardly in the doorway, unsure how much to take as an invitation. Merlin for his part just kicks off his shoes and hangs up his hoodie as if Gwaine isn’t there before he clears his throat, and Gwaine watches him steel himself. "Do you want a cup of tea? Coffee? Or just—sorry, it's been a long time." The tips of Merlin’s ears are a fetching shade of pink, and Gwaine has to fight down a smile that’s entirely too fond.
"I'm good, thanks," he offers with all the confidence of his early twenties, even though hookups are hardly a frequent thing for him any more. "Why don't you show me your room?"
"Come on up," Merlin says, with a definite note of relief before giving Gwaine an honest-to-god wink and heading up the stairs. Gwaine doesn't need telling twice, following Merlin up and not attempting to hide how he watches his arse in his scrubs. Merlin closes the door behind them, looking at Gwaine properly at last, meeting deep brown eyes.
"Hi," he hums, looking Merlin up and down with a slow smile.
"Hi yourself. You look good in uniform."
"Right back at you. I bet you look even better out." It’s a stupid line, and one that Gwaine himself would groan at, but somehow it works.
"Why don't you find out?" Em offers, mustering a smirk and leaning down just a little to kiss Gwaine softly, with far more confidence now that initial step into not just being friendly has been taken. Gwaine wastes no time kissing Merlin back even as his hands move to the hem of his scrub shirt, sliding under it to splay over the skin of his stomach. It can only be a few moments before he’s getting his hands into the material so he can lift it up and over Merlin's head, revealing pale skin and a light dusting of stark black hair over his chest. Gwaine admires it the best way he knows how; leaning in to kiss the centre of Merlin’s chest, nipping and sucking just above his left nipple. Em makes a strangled noise. "You top, yeah? Please tell me you top."
"I switch, depending who I'm with. But if you want to be fucked that badly, you'll get no argument from me," he grins, moving down to tongue at Merlin's nipple piercing.
"Good. Please. I'll be one minute," Em half-babbles, nipping out to the bathroom to freshen up and brush his teeth, Gwaine shaking his head with a chuckle after him. He kicks off his scrub pants on the way back across the bedroom and lays himself out on his bed, all long limbs, pale skin, and sparse dark hair that looks very fetching over his thighs, if you were to ask Gwaine.
He pulls his own uniform off without ceremony. "Lube and condoms?"
"Yeah." Em leans over to open his drawer, fishing them out as Gwaine climbs onto the bed, kneeling between Merlin's legs. He takes the offered packets, and sets them on the bed beside Merlin's hip so he can lean down to kiss him a moment before moving his way down his body, lavishing him with attention; kisses and nips down the pale column of his throat, across his slim chest, down his stomach. He's at Merlin’s inner thigh (intending to make the most of enjoying the slightly thicker covering of coarse hair there), when a soft snore makes him jerk his head up, bemused when he sees that Merlin is in fact fast asleep.
He can hardly be surprised, what with how exhausted he seemed, but it still raises a quiet huff of laughter from him at the ridiculousness of the situation. He carefully climbs back off the bed after a moment of deliberating whether or not to wake Merlin back up, deciding against it as he redresses and sets the lube and condom on the bedside table along with a note he scribbles on a piece of notepaper torn out of the small pad a good paramedic always keeps in their pocket.
Morning sleeping beauty, text me if you need a lift to work tomorrow. G xx followed by his number. Merlin is lying on top of the duvet, and Gwaine doesn't think he can move it from under him without waking him, but he drapes Em with a blanket that's thrown over the desk chair and hopes that'll be enough before he lets himself out, easing the door shut behind him, debating whether or not Percy would appreciate a text at this time of night to share the story.
Gwaine is not particularly surprised when he doesn't get a text, though he can't pretend he's not grateful since it means not having to get up and drive to the hospital on the first of his four days off.
***
"You'll never guess what happened to me on Wednesday night," Gwaine announces as soon as Percy gets into the car for their first shift back, four days later.
"Nice to see you too, my time off was great, thanks," Percy pretends to grumble.
Gwaine waves a mock-dismissive hand. "I know, I saw your pictures on Facebook. Very nice. Merlin invited me back to his place after work."
"I was thinking of proposing on New Year's Eve but—you what?"
"What but could there possibly be? You know he'd say yes.” Gwaine prods Percy in the ribs, grinning.
"Never mind that, it’s not important, you got invited back?
"I did, but now you're talking about marrying Elyan so that's by the fucking by. But what?"
"But I don't have the first clue about rings."
"Oh, is that it? That's what you're worried about?"
"Yes. Told you, not important."
"Not important," Gwaine agrees. "All you've got to do is find out his size. He can't wear stones because of work, and his other jewellery is gold. You don't need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that one out." He pats Percy's knee, fully aware it probably just didn't occur to him it could be so simple.
"How the hell am I meant to find out his size? Anyway, I'll worry about it later. Tell me about your days off."
"They were very uneventful. I didn't get out of bed until well after midday for three of the four, and that one was only because I promised the footie lads I'd try and make the game. We lost, by the way."
"How old are you, fifteen?" Percy chuckles. "What was that about Em?"
"He invited me over after work on Wednesday," he repeats, unable to help his grin widening.
"Get in son," Percy crows, barging Gwaine with his shoulder, although he’s a little too enthusiastic and nearly sends him into the car window.
"I never said I got laid."
"What?"
"Have you taken a knock on the head this morning? You're struggling with some basic concepts," ge teases. "I didn't get laid. Poor bugger practically begged me to fuck him then fell asleep while I was getting ready to go down on him.”
"Oh Christ." Percy fights a laugh, unsuccessfully.
"It's not funny!"
"It is a little bit funny."
"I was looking forward to finally getting my way with him. And I left him my number but he hasn't text me in all four days since," Gwaine sighs.
"Well he's probably embarrassed," Percy says reasonably. "I would be."
"Why! He was tired, he fell asleep. No harm no foul."
"During sex? It’s embarrassing. Anyway, just talk to him."
"I can't because he won't text me! And god knows when I'll see him again at work, but it's unlikely to be a time when that conversation would be appropriate."
"How did you even get round to getting invited back to his in the first place?"
"I wanted to catch him and say thanks for looking over my hand. And we got talking. I was genuinely concerned he was too tired to drive safely, so I offered him a lift. And he invited me in." Gwaine explains before Percy can continue asking, although the look he gives him in answer is even worse.
"What time did he finish?"
"I dunno, just when he was done with his paperwork."
"You stayed after your shift with him? Boy, you have got it bad." Percy raises his reusable coffee mug in a mock toast, looking smug.
"I don't have anything."
"Yeah you do. You're a little bit in love."
"Don't be daft,” he grumbles as they pull into the hospital carpark because it's easier than acknowledging Percy might be right.
"Don't let a good thing get away from you, Carew," Percy says sagely, as they head for the day’s handover and another shift of seeing the best and worst humanity has to offer. "What are we putting bets on today?" Percy says, as they run through their daily checks of the ambulance. "I'm thinking it's going to be a senior citizen special."
"You'd love that," Gwaine smiles, thankful that Percy doesn't push before he’s even figured out what he wants himself. "They love you."
"Here we go. Told you. Call from a care home, ninety-year-old lady, struggling to breathe with chest pain, has been unwell for a while.” Percy turns on the blue lights, heading towards their location, though he hasn’t lost the smug look on his face. "Morning Betty," he says with one of his butter-wouldn't-melt smiles when they arrive. "I'm Percy, this is Gwaine. I'm going to have a little look at you, all right?" With every ounce of his charm, Percy manages to persuade her into hospital, and he’s proven right about their calls up until the end of the day when the radio beeps with a young lad who's gone down in a bad rugby tackle.
"Oh, that's got to hurt.” Gwaine offers his commiserations. “You, not the kid. Perfect streak ruined by a twelve year old."
"There's always tomorrow."
"You've had your chance."
"Right, well, you decide next time"
"You'll have my prediction first thing," Gwaine promises as they turn the corner into the carpark of the academy where the after school match was taking place. "All right mate," he smiles at the young lad, who is sitting on the field, pale and leaning on who Gwaine presumes is his mum. "I'm Gwaine, this is Percy, heard you've taken a bit of a tumble. Can you tell us your name, and what happened?" Gwaine crouches down, taking in the way he's holding his arm awkwardly.
He tells them his name is Jack, that he was playing rugby like normal, and he tried to run between two boys on the opposite team, when they both tackled him and he was caught in the middle. He's sure he didn't hit his head very hard, although it hurts, he mainly just landed on his arm, and one of the other lads accidentally stood on it. "There's a little cut on your head, so we'll need to have a proper look at that soon, but I think you're probably more worried about that arm, hm? We can give you some medicine for the pain, then we'll get you onto the ambulance to the hospital so you can get an xray."
Jack nods, flinching when Gwaine gives him an injection but putting on a brave face, smiling at the mention of the ambulance. "Will you put the sirens on? Will we drive fast?"
"Afraid not, mate,” Gwaine says, seriously. “You definitely need to go to hospital, but you're not an emergency. That’s a good thing. Have you been in an ambulance before?" He chats easily to him as he takes his observations, checks for concussion.
"No, have you? I mean when you're not driving it."
“No, never. You’ve got me beaten.”
"What, really! This is so cool," Jack says as the trolley is secured in the back of the van. "What's that thing on the wall for?"
Gwaine indulges him, always has time for the kids. "It's a suction unit, it's what we use if someone's being really sick or they've swallowed a lot of water and we need to help get it out their airways. Can you squeeze my fingers for me, pal? Both hands." He holds out both of his, holding his right down so the kid won't have to move his injured arm to reach.
"Eurgh," he wrinkles his nose, squeezing both of Gwaine’s hands though he grimaces in pain when he uses his left.
"That hurt? Can you show me where?"
"Hm, here. All the way up my arm." He points. "What's in that cupboard?"
"Gloves, masks, blue plastic aprons. And cardboard sick bowls. How's the pain, 0 - 10?"
"Oh, yeah. I've seen them before. Um, maybe an eight? It hurts a lot."
"Righto, do you want to see something cool we've got that might help?" When Jack nods, Gwaine points to a tank. "You see that cylinder on the wall? That's got a special medicine called nitrous oxide in. We put a special mask on your face and it'll blow the medicine out for you to breathe in. It feels a bit weird and cold on your face, and it might make you feel a bit dizzy or sick, but it'll help your pain a lot. Want to give it a try?"
"Yes please," he says quietly, though he's nervous, looking to his mum sitting next to him.
"I reckon your mum maybe got offered this when she had you, hm?" Gwaine winks at the woman, used to putting parents at ease too. "Put your head forward a moment for me, yeah Jack? We'll get this on and then see how you feel. It can come straight back off if you don't like it. You just wave or poke me with your good arm and I'll know." Gwaine fits the mask over his head for him, perching on the edge of the trolley to check his pulse again. “I'm gonna turn the medicine on now, get ready for that cold, and try to breathe normally for me. Nice slow breaths."
Jack nods, breathing slowly like he's told. Gwaine doesn’t miss how he holds tight to his mum's hand with his good one, always likes calls like this. "Feeling okay?" He asks after a couple of minutes. "We're not too far from the hospital now. You've done really well, mate."
"Bit sick. But I'm all right," Jack offers bravely, though his voice wobbles.
"Yeah, you're gonna be fine mate. You let me know if you need a sick bowl though, okay?"
Jack nods, and Gwaine squeezes his shoulder as they pull into the hospital. “Right, here we are. Let's get you into a wheelchair; it’ll be a lot easier to get anywhere in there. Percy's gonna go and fetch one.” Gwaine keeps chatting as they help him move into a chair, leaving Percy to the paperwork as usual as he pushes the chair, steadfastly ignoring the weird flutter in his stomach when Merlin's waiting for them.
"Hello," Merlin smiles to them both, though there's a tightness around his eyes Gwaine catalogues away to ask about later. "I hear you've been in a bit of a scrape?"
"More like a spectacular rugby tackle. It was very heroic, so I hear," Gwaine corrects with a wink to the kid. "This is Jack, he's twelve. We've got a superficial laceration to the head, and he's been feeling a little bit sick but no other concerns about that. His arm's really sore, about an 8/10. He's had some magic gas which he said helped. Suspected dislocation of the elbow, potentially a monteggia of the forearm."
"Right then," Merlin says, taking it all in without a blink. "Let me just have a check of everything again, and then we'll get you down for an x-ray. Have you had one of those before?" H puts on gloves and gets his sphygmomanometer, stethoscope, and thermometer, clipping a pulse-ox monitor on the end of one of Jack's fingers
"It's pretty cool," Gwaine supplies when Jack shakes his head. "You get to see the pictures of your bones when it's done."
"Yeah you do," Merlin confirms with a nod. "I'm just going to pop this in your ear, it'll take your temperature." He chats as he works, explaining everything to a nervous Jack and his mum.
"Right then, let's get you to x-ray," Gwaine smiles when Merlin is done. "Not much nice about breaking your arm, but when a paramedic brings you to the x-ray room you don't usually have to wait," he says with a wink.
"I'll see you back here when you're all photographed." Merlin smiles, waving at them before he starts on yet more paperwork.
Gwaine doesn't mean to listen, not at first, but they're waiting for the lift and Merlin's door isn't properly closed. He just sounds so upset, so defeated that Gwaine strains to hear why, heart sinking for him. "Hi Mum. Yeah. I'm—I'm looking forward to it too but I don't think I can come. No, I'm not at work but my car is completely done for, and with it being the day before Christmas Eve I can't get it into a garage. I know I missed last year too. I know. I'm really sorry. Yeah. Love you mum. Love you, bye. I'm really sorry again. Bye."
Gwaine keeps the smile on his face as he gets into the lift with Jack.
Merlin has his own smile back in place when they return, the images already up on the computer screen. "So Gwaine was right. Your arm is what we call dislocated, where it isn't sitting in its socket like it should. I think you might have a little bit of a concussion too, if you're feeling sick, but unfortunately we can't do anything about that and it'll pass on its own."
"Gwaine is usually right, thank you,” Gwaine says, tossing his hair haughtily as best he can when it’s tied up. "Doc Em here is really good at what he does, though; he’ll get you sorted in no time."
"A little bit more bad news is that we have to pop that joint back into place, and I'm afraid that will hurt. You've hurt one of your ligaments too. Do you know what they are?"
When Jack shakes his head, Gwaine says, "Oh, let me go and get Bob; you'll love Bob. We use him to teach the doctors what's what and where things are.” He finds enthusiasm from somewhere, not wanting to let anything on to Em. He brings in the wheeled anatomical model from the communal cupboard he's seen it in countless times when he's gone digging for gloves to restock. “Our Jack here was asking all sorts of questions about all my gadgets in the ambulance."
"Looks like we're in the company of a future doctor." Merlin points out what Jack has hurt and how they'll fix it, patiently answering all his questions about which body part is which. Gwaine watches him with a small, soft smile, and is forced to concede that Percy might have been right. Not that Gwaine will ever tell him that.
"Okay.” Merlin’s voice breaks into his train of thought. “Resus has a space now. Going to take you down for the nasty bit, right? Then you can get yourself home."
"I'll come, save you waiting for a porter." Gwaine nods to Merlin. "Jack was my last call today anyway, I've got all the time in the world."
They make their way down the corridor. "You've been really brave," Merlin says sincerely, when he sees how terrified Jack looks as they approach the double doors to resus.
“Mum's going to have to wait outside on these seats, but I'm gonna come in with you, all right?” Gwaine says, squeezing Jack’s shoulder again.
Jack musters a smile then says, ever so quietly, "Um, Gwaine? Will you … will you hold my hand?"
"Hey, course I will."
"You don't think I'm too big?"
"Nope. I think I'm a grown-up and I still need someone to hold my hand when I'm scared sometimes too." Jack nods solemnly. Merlin gives Gwaine a nod that’s just as grateful.
"Right. Jack, I'm going to give you some more stuff to breathe in, and that will help things." He decants penthrox, shows Jack how to breathe in the tube. "I'm going to count to three, and no promises but it should be over and done. Ready?"
"Squeeze my hand really tight," Gwaine is sure to offer him the one he didn't bruise up the other day. "Really tight, right at the same time you breathe in the medicine." Jack nods as Merlin counts before pulling and pushing as quickly as he can, putting his weight behind it. "That's it that's it, well done well done well done, yes." He steps back, splinting Jack's arm quickly. "Take a minute. You did it!"
"Well done, mate," Gwaine smiles softly. "All done. Let's get you back in the chair and I'll take you out to your mum while Dr Em sorts the boring bits out."
"Have a great Christmas, Jack. You've been a star," Merlin adds, the smile dropping from his face as soon as Jack isn’t looking, which Gwaine doesn’t fail to notice. He deliberates a second when he's done talking to Jack and his mum, taking the discharge form they sign and waving them both off, before he tells himself to stop being such a baby and to just go and talk to Merlin, knocking once on his office door.
"Come in." There’s a slight crash, and Gwaine suspects Merlin has dropped his phone, proven right when he pushes the door and steps inside.
"Hey."
"Oh, Gwaine. Hiya."
"Are you finishing up soon?"
"When I'm caught up on paperwork. And I'm on nights tomorrow."
"On Christmas Eve? Ouch."
"I did volunteer. I've not got kids."
"Well no, but you've got friends, a family," Gwaine says casually, trying to confirm what he thinks he heard earlier without being obvious. "And you deserve a nice Christmas regardless of kids. Are you at least off Christmas night?"
"Yeah, I was meant to go to my mami's in Ealdor, but that's not happening now." He looks away for a moment before he looks at Gwaine again. "Quiet one to myself, I suppose."
"A chance to sleep off the inevitably shit shift, I suppose. Still a shit lot though, I'm sorry." He’s weirdly nervous as he reaches out, puts a hand on Em’s shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm fifth wheeling, again, which is a different type of shitty, but still shitty."
"Percy and Elyan, and who else?”
"Elyan's sister and her fiancé. It's all very cosy and sickening," he sighs.
“I mean you can come round mine but I won't be any better off than last time." A flush pinks Merlin’s cheeks and ear tips, and god Gwaine wants to kiss it.
"You know, I might just take you up on that. I left you my number, so you can text me when you've had a nap.” Gwaine can’t help his smirk, just a hint of teasing to it.
Merlin rolls his eyes at himself. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I just felt—well. I fell asleep"
"I knew you were exhausted. That was the whole point in me driving you. It's fine, really."
"It's mortifying," Merlin admits sheepishly.
"Oh shush, it was sort of adorable, and I'm still hanging around aren't I?" Gwaine offers. "But I'll try not to see you tomorrow; it's my last shift before Christmas and I could really do without a child trauma case to round it off before I finish for the night."
"Right, well. Have a good one." Merlin just sounds defeated, and it hurts Gwaine’s heart.
"You too, Em," he says uncharacteristically softly, heading off to meet Percy at his car to drive him home as usual.
***
"Am I crazy?" is his opening for Percy the following morning as they head to work, when he’s had a night to think things over.
"Yes, but why specifically this time?"
"I'm thinking of sacking off Christmas to drive Merlin home so he can see his mum."
"Well, we'll miss you,” Percy says, not sounding too cut up about it.
"I don't know if I'm going to do it yet."
"I didn't say not to. On the contrary, I think you absolutely should, you soft git."
"You think?" he hums. "I haven't run this by him. He's on nights tonight, so I'm not likely to see him. And I don't have his number because he still hasn't text me. I'd just have to kind of … turn up."
"That's romantic as hell. Do it. It's Christmas."
"Maybe," Gwaine shrugs, much more blasé than he feels.
"Yes. Never mind him; I won't forgive you if you fuck this up."
"Fucking things up is what I do best."
"You'll only fuck it up if you don't do it,” Percy says, in that sincere way he has of making anything sound reasonable.
Gwaine doesn’t have a chance to reply, thrown into the thick of things the minute they walk into work. It's never a nice day to be on shift, the majority of patients either pissed up because it's Christmas Eve, or distraught to be unwell enough to need an ambulance on Christmas Eve, but it ends eventually, as every shift does. There are, thankfully, no paediatric cases during the last part of their shift when they might feasibly have bumped into Merlin, and Gwaine doesn't go and seek him out. Instead, he drops Percy home with a cheery goodbye and Merry Christmas for tomorrow before he heads to his own flat, hastily getting things ready for the morning
***
Gwaine deliberated on the best plan but ultimately decided not to risk waiting for Merlin to text him, because if he did, it would probably be too late for them to get to Ealdor at any meaningful sort of time. Instead he sets his alarms ungodly early for a day off, and gets himself dressed; just jeans and a grey roll-neck jumper because he's no Scrooge but he's certainly not festive enough for Christmas jumpers. He gets to the hospital ten minutes before shift change to be safe, doesn't want to risk missing Merlin. He parks himself on one of the uncomfortable waiting room seats right opposite the handover room he knows Merlin will be in right now, two coffees in hand.
Merlin comes out from the morning's handover, almost walks straight past then looks twice, which would be funny if Gwaine wasn’t so bloody unsure, a feeling he is absolutely not used to. "Gwaine?”
“In the flesh.”
What are you doing here? It's Christmas morning!"
"Kidnapping you. Now here, coffee. And Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," Em says almost by rote, reaching for the offered cup. Gwaine leads Merlin out to his car, opts for his own music rather than obnoxious Christmas Day radio as he drives them back to Merlin's house. "Right, go in and grab what you need. You can nap in the car on the way to Ealdor."
"What? No, you're not driving me two-and-a-half hours into Wales on Christmas day."
"Yeah I am. Now go on, hurry up." Gwaine idles the car outside, his own rucksack with overnight clothes on the back seat, a sprig of mistletoe hung on the mirror in a moment of overconfidence. Merlin comes crashing out of the front door, almost slipping on the steps, clumsy in his giddiness.
"Really, you don't have to do this," Em says when he gets back into the passenger seat, though that wide, full-face grin is still in place.
"I know. But I want to."
Merlin looks fully at him then, his smile fading just a little. "Why?"
"It's more exciting than sitting in the corner while the happy couples pretend they wouldn't rather be doing Christmas alone. And I like you." He steals a glance at the mistletoe he's hung over his mirror, trying to gather the courage because this feels entirely different to what was theoretically a quick hookup.
"You all right?" Merlin is looking at him, clear blue eyes intense, crinkled with amusement.
"Yeah, yeah good."
"Sure?"
"Yeah. I just—er, there's something on your lip," Gwaine says suddenly, cursing himself for being stupid and obvious.
"Excuse me?" Em blinks.
"Just there," Gwaine touches the corner of Merlin's mouth ever so gently before he leans in to kiss him. He hears the sharp intake of breath from Merlin as he does, their lips meeting much more softly than before. Gwaine slides his hand from where he’s cupping Merlin's face, into the strands of hair escaping from beneath the soft beanie hat Merlin is wearing.
"Gwaine."
"Mm?"
"Tell me this isn't just some Christmas spirit thing you're doing to make yourself feel better."
"I'm not festive enough to do much of anything in the name of Christmas spirit. Especially not setting an alarm at 6am when I don't have to."
"Okay." Merlin nods, evidently satisfied with his answer because he’s kissing him again harder, his own hand in Gwaine’s hair, kept loose for once. Gwaine can feel his smile against his lips, and once again has to concede that Percy might have been right.
Gwaine forgets everything but this for a moment, just kissing him deep before he reluctantly pulls back, just enough to speak against Merlin's lips. "Driving. Ealdor. Let's go."
"Okay. Yeah.” Merlin looks dazed, and Gwaine feels just a flicker of pride. “What do we tell mami?"
"You tell her you're on your way and you'll see her soon. I've got myself a room at the travelodge and a bottle of scotch, so you're not worrying about when you have to leave."
"What, no! Gwaine."
"What? I'm not going to crash your family Christmas." Gwaine has never really been comfortable around happy families, never knows what to do with himself—how to stand, where to put his hands, what he should and shouldn't say. After the mess he made of his own, it's better he stays away.
"Gwaine. Come with me." Em is just so bloody genuine about it, has that look in his eyes he gets when he's explaining to a patient exactly why they need the treatment they don't want to have in order to get better, and Gwaine is helpless to it. He isn't going to drive Merlin home for Christmas just to disappoint him—though a small but insistent part of him, deep down, knows that's inevitable.
"Okay," he says, though the idea still sits like a stone lodged somewhere between his ribs. "You better ring her then. And you probably should try to sleep." Gwaine uses his best “take care of yourself before I do it for you” voice he learned from the best (Percival Swann), and starts the engine, Merlin having already put the address in his map for him. Again, Gwaine tries not to listen into Merlin’s conversation, but the small space means he can hear the Welsh lilt on the other end of the phone, though it’s muffled.
"Hello? Mami? Hi! Merry Christmas!"
"Merlin? Hi darling. Merry Christmas."
"So um, I'll be there soon. With a friend."
"What? You're coming home? That's amazing, sweetheart. Oh my god, you should have told me sooner. I'll have to get ready! Did you fix your car? Or is your friend driving you? They're staying, aren't they?"
"I didn't know until a quarter of an hour ago. My friend surprised me, and he's driving." Merlin flashes one of those dazzling, eye-crinkling grins over at Gwaine, who feels his stomach flip again.
"That's amazing, oh Merlin. I'm so happy, I was worried about you. I didn't want my baby stuck all alone on Christmas."
"Mother, I'm thirty-three in a week." Gwaine looks across at that, entirely unsure what the protocol is when it's your not-boyfriend-but-maybe-boyfriend's birthday a week after you maybe got together.
"Don't worry, you don't have to get me anything," he whispers to Gwaine, who hadn’t realised he’d been pulling a deer in headlights face. "No, no, mami I was talking to Gwaine. Well, I say he's a friend, but it's … kind of a new thing."
"Merlin Aneurin Emrys! You're bringing your boyfriend to meet me, on Christmas Day, with two hours notice?" Gwaine hears the rising pitch of her voice, keeping his eyes very firmly on the road.
"He's not my boyfriend! It's—like I say, it’s a new thing."
"Of course he's not. He's just driving you across the border on Christmas Day because...?"
"It might be something, all right? Early days."
"Of course. But he is staying, isn't he?"
"I invited him to, yes. He has a room at the travelodge, and we are not going to scare him off. That goes for Will as well, you’ll have to tell him."
"I would do no such thing!"
"Mami."
"Yes, Merlin?"
"Be good.” They say their goodbyes after that, and Gwaine can see the weight lift from Merlin’s shoulders as if it’s a physical thing. "Sorry about that," Em smiles sheepishly, pulling his coat around him like a blanket.
"Don't worry about it. You get some sleep, I'll wake you up when we're nearly there."
"Thank you, cariad. Honestly." He reaches over to squeeze Gwaine's hand.
"Go on, sleep," Gwaine says firmly, though he doesn't move his hand away. He’s admittedly glad for the quiet when Merlin falls asleep, the chance to be alone with his thoughts for a little while, trying to order them.
Merlin groans when he's woken, blinking at what must be familiar countryside. "Satnav reckons we've got ten minutes," Gwaine explains, apologetic.
"Yeah, I know where we are. Had my first kiss under that tree," Merlin points out, an evergreen with sparse branches, hung with strings of lights and tinsel.
"Lucky guy. Mine was round the back of the school bin shed."
"Lucky? We were thirteen and he decided that no, he wasn't gay," Em says with a laugh, and not a hint of self-consciousness.
"Still better than behind the bloody bins at school. With an audience egging you on."
"Was it at least a good kiss?"
"Not particularly. Good in the way any teenage lad thinks his first anything is good. But objectively, no. I’ve had better.” He looks pointedly at Merlin, flirting coming naturally, something he can bolster himself with. Merlin glances down, then back up, reflexively, at Gwaine’s lips. He clears his throat when he catches himself, and Gwaine chuckles.
"God I wanted—want you, so badly," he says, unguarded and raw, and Gwaine is lost in the face of it.
"I'm not driving you all the way to Ealdor just to steal you away to my hotel room and have my way with you. But it is tempting,” he grins, turning into the driveway of the house the satnav announces is Merlin's mother's. "Is that your mum pretending not to peek out the window?"
"Yep. She's being very restrained." Em reaches over to squeeze Gwaine’s hand, getting out of the car and half running up to the door. Gwaine follows behind at a slower pace, exhales slowly and tells himself it's ridiculous to be so nervous about this before he plasters on a bright smile for the woman who throws open the door and pulls Merlin into a tight hug.
"Mami, this is Gwaine," he says into her shoulder, still held tightly by her. “Gwaine, this is my mami, Hunith.”
"It was really no trouble," he smiles when she showers him with thanks for driving Merlin, pulling him into the house with her free hand. It’s small, but more homely than anywhere Gwaine has ever lived, and it tugs at that decades-old ache that simmers somewhere deep in him. There are photos on the walls, mostly of Merlin, but a few of Hunith and a man who can only be Merlin’s father; Gwaine doesn’t see a lot of Merlin in his mother, only his eyes. His features come from the long-haired, bearded man in the pictures.
Merlin hangs back a moment when Hunith heads into the kitchen. “He died before I was born,” he explains. “But I never felt like I missed out. Are you okay? I know it’s a lot.”
Gwaine smiles tightly. "I’m grand. Your mum is lovely, and I know you. Anyway, it beats getting drunk alone in a travelodge." He keeps his voice light, as though that wasn't every Christmas he wasn't working before Percy staged an intervention and invited him to spend it with him and Elyan and Gwen and Lance.
"Oh, cariad,” Merlin says quietly, seeing through him. It’s disconcerting that someone can read him so easily, but Gwaine is determined not to let it prickle at him. Em nods to some unspoken question, and leads Gwaine into the living room, accepting hugs off Will too, who offers his hand to Gwaine, who shakes it. He feels on more even footing with Will: friendships, even good ones like this, are not as foreign to him as a loving family. He accepts Will's calculating look with a charming grin.
"Will," Em says, his tone as stern as his mother's. "Behave."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Will mutters, but his expression softens into something neutral.
"Percy would probably play the big man while he got the measure of you, Em, if he didn't already know you," Gwaine offers reasonably.
"He’s nice, though. Will isn't."
"Merlin!" Hunith scolds.
"He's not!"
"I am. I'm delightful. Look, I'll even give you your present.” Gwaine just watches them, sees himself and Percy in it. He stays sitting, on the edge of it all as they exchange gifts, Merlin apologising profusely for not wrapping them, and for not getting Gwaine anything.
"It's fine, really," he assures both Merlin and Hunith for the sixth time. "Neither of you knew I was even coming." Merlin eventually accepts it, leans in for a chaste kiss. Gwaine gives it, glad for it. "Besides, I didn't get you anything either." Merlin just squeezes his hand again, going to see if his mum wants any help in the kitchen.
Gwaine stays where he's left on the sofa, taking a drink from the tea Hunith made him to avoid having to start a conversation with Will. It’s to no avail though, because Will just waits for him to finish it. "So. You and Merlin. I've not seen him like this in a long time."
"Is this the part where you tell me to be careful with him and threaten to hurt me if I break his heart?"
"I don't need to bother; we both know that's the deal." Will smiles just a little, and Gwaine matches it.
When she calls them through for dinner, Gwaine finds Hunith's kitchen is small but warm, as cosy as the rest of the house. He can't remember the last time he had a proper family Christmas, and as good as Lance's cooking is, it's nothing compared to this.
"It's a bit of a free-for-all," Hunith says gently, as canny as her son when it comes to seeing through him, it seems. "Sorry my son and adoptive son are animals."
“It's lovely. Thank you.” Gwaine makes it through dinner, mainly just letting the others’ conversation wash over him. He helps Hunith collect the plates until she shoos him away. “I'm just gonna nip outside and ring Perce, I'll not be long."
He heads outside, seats himself on the bench in the lush front garden, glad of the cool air. He does text Percy, even if it was mostly an excuse, exchanging their well-wishes.
~Merry Christmas, hope it's not too boring without me xoxo
~It's not the same. Hope you're doing well xx
~Got bullied into staying for dinner, haven't even touched the scotch x
~You do see how that's a good thing right? Xx
~Objectively yes, but I'm feeling pretty subjective right now x
~Proud of you xx
~Shut up you sap x
~No. Merry Christmas. Love you xx
Gwaine leaves it at that, taking another moment. He jumps when the front door opens, Merlin coming out to stand beside him. “Hey.”
“Hi. I was just—”
“Taking a minute. It’s fine. I get it.” Merlin smiles, inclining his head towards the mistletoe hung in the window of the door, much bigger than the modest sprig Gwaine had decorated his car with. “I just wanted to give you this,” he pulls Gwaine in with a hand on the back of his neck for a kiss. Merlin’s lips taste like coffee, and Gwaine is intoxicated, can’t get enough. Strange as Christmas here may be to what he’s used to, Gwaine can’t bring himself to regret joining them, nothing but glad Merlin has had this every year. "Thanks again,” he whispers when they break apart. “For coming."
"You don't have to keep thanking me."
"I know, I just—I want to. It means a lot."
"Then you're welcome. Again. Come on inside.” Gwaine keeps his arm around Merlin, steers him back into the house. It’s easier after that, nobody expected to do much but eat all the Quality Street and sit in front of the telly, which Gwaine is more than happy for. It’s barely even 9pm when they’re both yawning, and Merlin shows Gwaine up to his childhood bedroom, faded posters of Orlando Bloom on the wall. Gwaine has the grace not to say anything, pulling off his jeans and jumper to lie under the covers in his t-shirt and boxers, Merlin doing much the same.
"So,” Merlin says into the darkness, laid on Gwaine’s chest. “Tell me about your Christmases.”
There it is. The dreaded, inevitable question. Gwaine deliberately keeps his voice light. "Not much to tell," he says with a shrug. "Last few years, if I'm not working I've been at Percy's place. Before that it's just been me."
"That's sad."
"Maybe, but it's better than the alternative."
"Which is?"
"My family.” He isn’t going to elaborate, but the silence is too heavy, and he wants Merlin to know now, so he has the chance to cut it off before they’re in too deep—as if Gwaine isn’t already in way over his head. "My mum died when I was nine. Haven't spoken to my da in about twelve years. He's rich and devoutly Catholic. I committed the sin of not keeping the fact I like dick confined to a dirty boarding-school dorm secret. Ah shit, Em.” He exhales, long and slow. “I didn't want to say anything, ruin a nice evening. Christmas night and all that. But I just—I should have told you before. Before you let me spend Christmas with your mami. I've had what you’d call … a troubled past. I'm not the sort of man you're supposed to want to do this with."
"At the risk of sounding cliché and like therapy bullshit, I always knew you had something weighing on you. There's this … quietness you get. Around families at work, when you think you've not done well enough. Like you don't think you deserve things."
"You mean when I'm punching furniture because I think I'm bad at my job?"
"I've noticed it for far longer than that. Why do you think I came after you?"
"I dunno. But you're daft if you didn't stop to think, maybe that means I'm not good."
"I think you're doing that thing again. Where you don't think you deserve things."
"I got expelled from the best boarding school in Ireland. Several run-ins with the police, usually for starting stupid fights when I was pissed up. I'm damned lucky I got a DBS record clear enough to let me do my job. I've actively antagonised my family into disowning me. Not a good man, Merlin. Definitely not a ‘take him to the family Christmas dinner’ kind of man."
Merlin hums, drawing his hand down the rough stubble on Gwaine's cheek. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to. Gwaine sighs, pretending it isn't shaky and unsure. "I was just … angry. So angry. Drinking too much. Sleeping around without caring, or knowing half the time who it was I was in bed with. I just—don't know how to promise anyone that part of me isn't still in there somewhere. God knows I have a temper.”
"What were you angry about?" Merlin asks, his voice so gentle.
"My family, mostly. Bunch of pricks. I'm sorry. This isn't what you want to hear. It's Christmas."
"Gwaine, I'm a doctor. I've had far worse on Christmas."
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Try me.”
Gwaine waited a moment, then said, "I was … angry that mum died. Angry that I was the son dad didn't care about, even before he realised I wasn't going to play his games. Angry I was expected to play the games at all. Angry my 'friends' didn't care about any of it but the money I had, or see what was wrong. Angry I wasn't allowed to be into men, or want to be a nurse."
"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. But here you are despite it all. A bloody brilliant paramedic, and sweet enough that you drove me to fucking Wales on Christmas Day. Stop trying to talk me out of wanting you; it isn’t going to happen." Merlin rolls on top of Gwaine so he can see him, rubbing their noses together—a slightly ridiculous gesture but one that Gwaine can’t help but laugh at, some of the tension dissipating.
"Just don't say I didn't warn you."
"Noted." Em slides his hand into Gwaine’s, lacing their fingers together. "But I want to see where this goes."
“Me too,” Gwaine says, thickly. “But you’ll have to forgive me if I’m shit at dating. I’ve never done it before.”
“Well, we’ll muddle through together. I’m hardly an expert.”
Gwaine lets out the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, exhaustion washing over him all of a sudden. He pulls Merlin close just because he can, nosing into the warmth of the junction between his neck and shoulder, closing his eyes as he breathes him in. “We’ll be all right, darlin’,” he mumbles into Merlin’s skin.
“We will, cariad,” Merlin hums, already half-asleep.
“Mm. Merry Christmas,” Gwaine sighs, squeezing him tighter.