A drink at the bar.

Gwaine waved Summer over, a smile on his lips. “Sum! Let me buy you a drink, what are you having?” He asked, smiling. 

“I figured usually there was a reason. Battles won, women lost, things like that.” Picking up the cup, she showed him how it was done; lifting the chin, because the flattest part of the head is the very top.

Gwaine grinned at her, watching as she balanced the cup on her head; only to lightly shove her shoulder, trying to make the cup fall. “Show off,” he mumbled, downing his drink and placing it back on the bar. “How’d you do that?”

“Lots and lots of practise,” Summer swept up the cup and held it back out to the barmaid, who neatly refilled it. “Practise you will never have, I expect, because a man never carries things on his head.” She tapped the cup on top of his head, then drank most of it off and slid down to his lap. “Is there a reason?”