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.
She tapped him on the top of the head. “Don’t call me that. Mead.”
He chuckled softly, throwing an arm around her. “You love it.” He turned to the barman. “A mead for the lady.”
“I will cut you,” she threatened. “Don’t call me that, Gwaine.”
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.
She tapped him on the top of the head. “Don’t call me that. Mead.”
Gwaine hummed. “Want a drink?”
She stretched, cat-like. “Yes, please. Do you mind? The apple stuff?”
He nodded, stifling a yawn as he got out of bed. Pouring two drinks and then padding back to bed. “Here.” He handed the drink over, yawning once again.
She curled both hands around the cup, watching him over the rim of it. The sheets lay crumpled at the foot of the bed, where impatient feet had shoved them, and now she sat lotus-fashion, uncaring of her nudity. Was this going to be it, then? A tumble with the drunken knight, and pretending it didn’t happen in the morning? She sipped, slowly, feeling the warmth curl down through her body.
Gwaine hummed. “Want a drink?”
She stretched, cat-like. “Yes, please. Do you mind? The apple stuff?”