Title: Retrospective of Regret
Challenge #71: History
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: G
Length: 552 words
Summary: Gwaine's done a lot of things in his life he's not proud of. This might be the worst.

At first Gwaine isn't sure what woke him, there is none of that instant fight or flight sensation he gets when they're sleeping rough out on patrol and he needs to shift from asleep to fighting for his life if he wants to live another day. He may be a bit hungover, if not still slightly drunk, but even in that state he can tell he's in his bed in the castle, warm and comfortable with a warm body pressed up against his side.

And that's when his eyes fly open and he gets a sinking sensation in his gut, because while it's lovely waking up wrapped around someone, said someone was soft and small and not Percival and....

Shite.

Percival is standing in the doorway. His face is hidden by shadows so Gwaine can't see his expression, but from his posture - shoulders hunched and head down - he can make a guess. Disappointed. Betrayed. Sad. It's a look Gwaine is unfortunately too used to seeing on Percival's face because Gwaine is an idiot who can't keep his dick in his pants once he's had a few too many drinks and forgets how good he has it.

Gwaine slips out from under his newest acquisition 's arm, there's enough moonlight coming in from the window to realize that he doesn't even recognize her, and grabs his shirt off the floor. He plasters a smile and look of contrite onto his face and is about to try to explain away what happened when Percival speaks up.

"Don't bother, Gwaine. Don't even bother. I know. It's the drink and the charm and you got lost in the moment."

It's a bit disconcerting how close that was to what Gwaine had been about to say so Gwaine changes tatics and instead offer what he hopes is a sincere sounding "Sorry" as he gets to his feet.

"No, you're not." Percival doesn't move from the doorway, but he does sort of shrink into himself, suddenly appearing so much smaller than a person of his size has any right to be. "Well, you are now. Sorry. But that's because you got caught, not because you brought someone into our bed while I was out on patrol." Gwaine opens his mouth to protest, but Percival holds his hand up to stop him. "I can't do this anymore, Gwaine."

"Oh, come on, I lost my head a bit. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. This," he says, gesturing to the clothes strewn around the room and the occupied bed, "doesn't mean anything."

"Gwaine." It's more of a sigh than anything else.

"Percival. Please. Give me another chance." Gwaine steps closer but Percival skirts away, staying just out of reach.

"No, I can't. I won't. I've given you too many already. I'm sorry, but I don't have any more of those to give." And with that soft statement Percival turns and leaves, closing the door with a gentle snick behind him.

Gwaine, barely resisting the urge to smack his head against the door, rests his forehead against the smooth wood and wills himself not to care. He'll just go back to being the hapless rouge that everyone other than Percival had always seen him as. He has to. Doing anything else would be too painful.