Cellmate - Chapter 6
TITLE: Cellmate (6/?)
PAIRING: Arthur/Merlin
WORDS: This part 4400
GENRE: Modern Au
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
SUMMARY: Merlin Emrys is dead. No really. He just called called the most dangerous prisoner in jail a prat. A prat he happens to be cellmates with. Cue fireworks.
Previous Chapters
***
Cellmate - Chapter 6
Back to Reality
It had been two days since Merlin and Arthur had finally had sex, and the night was never far from Merlin’s mind. Try as he might, he just couldn’t put the experience behind him, choosing instead to stew over Arthur’s careless dismissal and the reasons behind it.
Arthur had never shown sexual interest in him before that night, except perhaps for his half-hearted proposition weeks before, which was causing Merlin to question the motivations behind his cellmate’s abrupt change of heart. The blond had obviously been distressed by Lancelot’s attack, and Merlin had been easy and convenient - an outlet to his worry and anger. The thought upset Merlin more than he'd care to admit, and he wasn't sure why, especially considering he barely liked Arthur most the time.
But sometimes - before he’d catch himself - he’d reminisce over the way Arthur’s skin had felt against his and the way his hair had smelt of smoke and sandalwood. He knew it was stupid, but he found himself growing increasingly obsessed, fascinated by the way Arthur’s twisted mind worked.
His maddening bi-polar, multifaceted personality was so frustrating and difficult to figure out, Merlin was beginning to regard cracking his cellmate’s hard exterior as a personal challenge. He knew from what Gwen had told him that Arthur wasn’t necessarily an evil person, and for the first time - during the night Lancelot had been injured - Merlin had believed her. He’d actually seen the blond as a real person with genuine feelings, rather than a battle-hardened robot intent on making him feel as uncomfortable and inadequate as possible.
But it was strange - Merlin had never felt so conflicted over someone before. Never had he hated someone and liked them so much at the same time. He blamed his hormones…and Arthur’s rather stunning good looks.
However, his obvious growing obsession with Arthur and his unwillingness to let the whole thing go was beginning to put strain on his other relationships. Will for example, was in absolute despair. After telling Merlin not so subtly to pull himself together and stop pining, he had taken to snapping his fingers in front of his friend’s face every time he started to daydream.
“Stop it! Arthur does not have any other levels. He is a criminal, Merlin. He is not any more complicated than that. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but whatever it is, it’s not there. You had sex once - that's it! Get over it!” Will had taken to telling him, as though trying to bring him back to reality and remind him that Arthur was cruel and untrustworthy.
But he needn’t of bothered. Merlin had not forgotten Arthur’s dismissal after they’d slept together, and it still hurt to think about it. He may have taken to admiring the blond from afar, but he certainly wasn’t talking to him.
Since that night Arthur had tried to slip back into their previous routine - consisting mostly of snippy banter and half-assed threats - but Merlin rarely responded. Their strained interactions were making him feel uneasy and he was beginning to wonder what the blond truly wanted from him, now that the sex was over with. But he wasn’t sure Arthur even knew, especially if his increasingly erratic behaviour was anything to go by.
His mood seemed to rapidly decline the longer Lancelot’s absence continued, whether because he genuinely missed him, or because he lacked sex, was anybodys guess. His mood was so foul that even the druids were giving him a wide berth, except perhaps Mordred, whose lingering and silent presence only seemed to aggravate Arthur further.
But whatever the reasoning, something had to change soon, because Merlin didn’t think he could handle the tense atmosphere for one day longer.
***
Dragging himself out of bed the next morning, Merlin sighed, running a hand through his bed hair. He descended the ladder of the bunk and staggered to his feet, trying to shake of his brain’s early-morning fogginess.
Arthur was still in bed but evidently wide awake, watching his cellmate through slightly hooded eyes. Merlin avoided his gaze and turned to get dressed, rooting quickly through his drawers. He could feel Arthur’s now familiar glare on the back of his head and chose to ignore it, attempting instead to appear as cool and nonchalant as possible.
All pretence was lost however, when the blond started to speak.
“You know, if I’d of known you were going to be such a prissy bitch afterwards, I would never of had sex with you,” Arthur informed him, voice bland and twinged with sleep.
Merlin started and spun on a heel, expression indignant as he turned to face his cellmate. “Excuse me?!” he cried.
“I said - "
“I know what you said!” he all but squawked, seconds away from snatching Arthur’s pillow and beating him over the head with it. “I am not a prissy bitch!”
“No,” Arthur said sarcastically, “you’re handling this with real dignity and grace.”
Merlin let out a huff, but knew that neither dignity nor grace were either of his more prominent characteristics. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t meet your standards, your majesty! Not all of us are unfeeling bastards!”
Rather than threaten Merlin for being so disrespectful, Arthur sat up in bed and regarded him with a confused expression. “I thought you understood, Emrys - everyone else does. What happened…well, it’s just what I do.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not what I do,” Merlin hissed, dragging on a shirt and storming out the cell, leaving Arthur blinking blearily behind him.
He charged down to breakfast intent on ranting and raving, only to be disappointed when he realised he was so early Will had not yet arrived. He trudged to the breakfast queue feeling suddenly downtrodden, approaching the counter and regarding the watery porridge with distaste.
“Do you have anything else?” he asked the prisoner serving, wrinkling his nose. After having porridge every morning for the last few weeks, he swore he was beginning to develop an allergy towards it, which only succeeded in souring his mood further.
The server stared at him, regarding Merlin with such astonishment it was as though he’d just dropped out the sky. He was broad and stocky, with dark hair and a heavy brow. “Sausages, bacon and beans. As usual,” he replied, in short clipped sentences that left little room for argument.
“I’m a vegetarian,” Merlin said.
“So, have beans,” the server responded, sounding distinctly unimpressed. “Or porridge.”
Merlin sighed and held out his tray. “I’ll have porridge then, shall I?”
The server gave him a smug smile. “Good choice,” he said, picking up a very heavy ladle and spooning the porridge into his tray with far more force than was necessary.
Merlin frowned but said nothing, slinking over to his usual table and sitting down.
Will joined him a few minutes later.
“So, in a good mood yet?” he asked, dipping an experimental finger into his own porridge and putting it into his mouth. “No? Didn’t think so.”
“The server wouldn’t let me have anything but porridge,” Merlin said, in a rather mournful voice.
“That’s…really tragic,” Will responded hesitantly, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or look sympathetic. Instead he took a stab at changing the subject, obviously eager to keep Merlin distracted and the conversation going. “So, are you going to be showering anytime soon?”
“What?” Merlin asked, expression bewildered.
Will rolled his eyes. “Are you going to shower? You haven’t in two days. I couldn't help but notice.”
Merlin opened his mouth and floundered for a few minutes, looking down at the table. He’d avoided the showers since his night with Arthur, mostly because he still had marks all over his body and was unwilling to flash them to everyone. It would confirm his involvement with Arthur to Mordred, and probably result in a lot of abuse from other prisoners. But it had been two days, the marks had not yet faded, and he was beginning to smell; he feared he was just going to have to suck it up and take a wash.
“Yeah, I’m going to shower,” Merlin admitted, causing Will to give him a smile.
“Oh good,” his friend replied, “because I was starting to think you had depression.”
Merlin let out a slightly strained laugh and shook his head, devouring his porridge with new gusto. He all but polished his plate and clapped his hands together, rising from his seat.
“Let’s go, shall we?” he said, realising that if he was going to make it through showering without getting molested, he’d have to go while most of the other prisoners were still having breakfast. He grabbed Will’s shirt sleeve and tugged him to his feet, marching him quickly out of the cafeteria. “We need to go now.”
Will looked bemused by his words, but didn’t say anything, seemingly still half-asleep. He let Merlin lead him to the shower rooms without even complaining, forehead creased blearily. It was only when they entered the changing rooms that he commented, bewildered by Merlin’s change of mood.
“Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever been this early for a shower before,” he said, looking around the almost deserted changing rooms. “Any particular reason you’re in such a rush?”
Merlin stripped off his shirt and flapped his arms around his chest. “Look,” he exclaimed, gesturing to the various marks discolouring his skin.
“Oh,” Will mouthed. “Wow, Arthur really went for it, didn’t he?”
Merlin glared.
“No wonder you wanted to hide them,” his friend continued hastily, quickly brushing over his mention of Arthur. “If the other prisoners saw this, you’d soon become the prison bitch.”
Merlin closed his eyes and groaned, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Worse than that, Mordred would assume I’m sleeping with Arthur.”
Will shrugged. “But…you are?”
“No,” Merlin argued, “I’m not. I did ONCE. As you’ve pointed out numerous times. But if Mordred still thinks I’m in some sort of relationship with him, he might attack me again; look what happened to Lancelot.”
“Well, I suggest you hurry up then,” Will prompted, conceding the point and waving an arm in the direction of the showers. “Before everyone comes in from breakfast.”
Merlin wrapped a towel around his waist and shed his trousers, avoiding Will’s searching gaze. He was just beginning to fold his clothes when the changing room doors opened again, and more prisoners began to enter.
Cheeks reddening, he all but dived into the shower room, before Will had so much as removed his shirt.
But unfortunately, the two people he’d been intent on avoiding were actually the only two people currently in the showers, shrouded by water and steam.
Merlin could see Arthur’s back directly in front of him, long, lean and golden, even through the mist. He was stood opposite a pale white Mordred, whose hair was black with moisture, his bright blue eyes almost the only parts of him visible against the whiteness of the steam. He spotted Merlin immediately, lip curling in distaste, but he said nothing.
“Well, what a surprise, seeing you here,” he said after a strained silence, gaze leaving Merlin and returning to the blond in front of him. His voice was low and level, bored even, but it still sent shivers down Merlin’s spine.
“I knew you'd be here early and I wanted to talk,” Arthur said, sounding by contrast rather hacked off. His shoulders were steeled and tense, muscles contorting from the effort to stop himself leaping on the druid.
“Interesting choice of setting,” Mordred muttered. “Where there’s conveniently no guards.”
Arthur scowled. “There are other prisoners. They’ll arrive soon, but don't worry, this won't take long.”
Mordred’s gaze flicked to Merlin. “Yes, they will,” he replied. “So, I suggest you get on with whatever you wanted to say.”
Arthur’s hands curled into fists and he approached Mordred with deliberate slowness, looking very much like a predator cornering his prey. The druid however, looked anything but intimidated. He watched Arthur’s advance with bright blank eyes, posture relaxed and limbs unmoving.
“If you attack anyone I care about again, you will sincerely regret it,” the blond hissed, pushing Mordred up against the opposite wall.
Merlin watched with bated breath, knowing he should leave while he still could, but unable to get his legs to process his brain’s commands.
Arthur was now inches away from Mordred’s face, arms braced on either side of him to prevent an escape.
“Oh, but Merlin was so much fun,” Mordred deadpanned, expression steely.
The blond blinked, eyebrows creasing. “He’s not who I meant - he’s just my cellmate,” he snapped, causing Merlin to flinch. Not that he was expecting anything less - especially after Arthur’s recent treatment of him - but hearing it out loud was unpleasant nevertheless.
“Just your cellmate?” Mordred questioned coolly, looking over Arthur’s shoulder and down at Merlin’s chest. “Because he looks pretty ravished to me.”
Arthur let out a low growl and raised his fist, a second away from propelling it into the druid’s face.
But unfortunately, at that very moment, Will entered the room with a bang, finally undressed, calling “Merlin!” at the top of his voice.
Arthur started and looked up, giving Mordred the opportunity he needed. Moving faster than Merlin’s eyes could follow, he whipped himself out of Arthur’s grasp and grabbed the side of his face, smacking it against the white tiled wall.
Arthur’s golden head collided with the wall with a sickening crunch, causing Merlin to leap back in horror. The blond slumped unconscious to the ground, head lolling, just as Will came up beside his friend, mouth open and expression gaping.
Mordred looked down at Arthur’s motionless form with polite disinterest, head cocked lightly. He paused for a moment before glided forwards, causing both Merlin and Will to stiffen immediately. But the druid merely breezed straight past them, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Will let out a choked breath. “What the fuck?!”
Merlin ignored him and rushed over to Arthur’s crumpled body, feet sliding dangerously over the slippery wet floor. He collapsed on his knees next to his cellmate and ran a hand through his messy damp hair, finding a small trickle of blood.
“Is he ok?” Will asked hesitantly, just as the door opened and three more prisoners walked in.
“I think so,” Merlin replied, letting out a small sigh of relief. “I think he was just knocked out, but he needs to see Gwen.”
One of the prisoners who had just arrived nodded, turning to head straight back out the door. “I’ll alert someone,” he announced, disappearing seconds later.
“What happened?!” another asked, surveying Arthur’s body in complete bewilderment.
“Fight between Arthur and Mordred,” Merlin replied, by way of explanation.
“Yeah,” the prisoner nodded, looking unsurprised. “That’ll do it.”
***
It was three hours later and Merlin was back in his room, having helped escort an unconscious Arthur to the medical bay. Gwen had confirmed his cellmate’s injuries as severe concussion, but still appeared to be treating him as the blond had not yet returned to the cell.
Merlin was waiting restlessly for his reappearance, if only to confirm to himself that Arthur was alright, considering he’d still been out cold when he’d left the medical bay. It had been rare and rather unnerving to see the blond in such a state, especially as he appeared so strong and unbreakable the majority of the time. It was scary to think Mordred was capable of reducing him to a crumbled heap,and without it seemed, very much effort.
But before Merlin to work himself up into another state of panic about the mysterious druid, the cell door finally opened, revealing a very haggard looking Arthur.
His head was wrapped in a small thin bandage, causing his hair to stick up in messy tuffs. He was stumbling slightly, deep bags under his eyes and clothes rumpled. If Merlin didn’t know better, he’d of thought he was drunk.
“Are you ok?” he asked, watching the blond walk straight past him and collapse on top of his bed, bouncing slightly with the momentum.
“Hmm,” Arthur replied, looking at him through dazed eyes.
Merlin frowned and drew closer, hovering over the bed. “Is that a yes?”
“Yeah…”
“Is your head ok?”
“Yeah…”
“Are you sure? You look strange,” Merlin muttered, narrowing his eyes, surprised that the blond hadn’t yet snapped at him.
“Feeling the effects of the drugs…I guess,” Arthur admitted after a moment, eyelashes fluttering.
“Did Gwen give you some?”
“They didn’t work very well, so I had to get some more,” the blond explained, head lolling back against the pillows.
Merlin paused, shaking his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it still hurt after Gwen gave me the painkillers,” Arthur explained groggily, eyes fluttering closed. “So…I-I went to Gauis for a bit of pain relief.”
Merlin frowned. “Who’s Gauis?”
“The prison drug dealer.”
“Y-you went to the prison drug dealer?” Merlin choked, sounding strangely calm, but suitably aghast.
“Hmm,” came Arthur’s sleepy reply, which Merlin assumed to mean ‘yes’.
“A DRUG DEALER?!” he cried, causing the blond to jerk upwards and blink blearily in surprise.
“Yeah…?” Arthur replied, looking completely bewildered, and now Merlin thought about it, completely spaced-out.
The dark-haired took a deep breath and attempted to gain control of himself, determined to explain the dangers to his apparently oblivious cellmate. “You mixed drugs…?” he continued, willing for Arthur to get the point and recognize his logic. But unfortunately, the blond appeared too dazed to do either.
“Yeah…?” Arthur wondered, forehead creasing, a definite sign he had no idea what Merlin was talking about.
“You can’t mix drugs!” Merlin cried, thoroughly exasperated. Did Arthur not care about his own health at all? He was supposed to be intelligent!
“Well, the painkillers Gwen gave me didn’t seem to be working, so I went to Gauis instead,” Arthur explained, head dropping back onto his pillows. “Then they all seemed to kick in at once.”
Merlin surveyed his cellmate’s slumped form and pursed his lips. “Obviously,” he said.
Arthur’s mouthed quirked but he said nothing more, apparently drifting straight to sleep. That or drug induced coma, Merlin wasn’t sure.
“What did you take?” he questioned, shaking his cellmate’s shoulder to regain his attention.
But the blond merely shrugged. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Can’t remember.”
Merlin gritted his teeth. “Try harder.”
“You’re cute when you’re all bossy,” Arthur commented, letting out a low chuckle and causing Merlin’s heart to rocket into his throat. “But…I still can’t remember.”
“Arthur, it’s important - you could have overdosed,” Merlin said, shaking off the chills over his cellmate’s unwitting flattery. Now was not the time to melt into a puddle of goo just because Arthur had actually complimented him; it was probably just the drugs messing with his mind.
“Don’t be stupid,” Arthur slurred. Apparently, even when drugged, he still thought Merlin was an idiot. “I’ve done this before. I felt weird before, but I’m ok now. Just sleepy….And my head doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Merlin let out a sigh of exasperation, resisting the urge to smack his own head against the wall. “Well, that’s ok then,” he said sarcastically.
Arthur smiled, looking so blissed-out and dreamy that Merlin could barely contain the urge to touch him. Until he ruined the moment. “If I could, I’d hit you,” he mused.
“Well, at least you’re still feeling like yourself then,” Merlin commented, rolling his eyes.
“Hmm,” Arthur agreed, without opening his eyes. Merlin watched him doze for a few moments, before the blond interrupted his reverie. “Stop hovering,” he muttered. Although his words were well within character, his voice lacked its usual bite, causing Merlin to frown in thinly concealed concern.
“Do you take drugs from Gauis often?” he asked, surprised at himself for daring to ask the blond such a personal question. But Arthur appeared to be so spaced-out, he was no longer his usual sharp defensive self; he merely gave Merlin a small smile, breathing shallow.
“Dunno. Like every six months,” he answered quietly, expression smooth and relaxed. “I usually take them when I don’t want to feel so…unhappy.”
Merlin blinked, startled by the disarmingly honest admission. He took in a deep breath and prodded further, hoping the drugs had mellowed Arthur out enough that he wouldn’t receive a punch. “Are you…unhappy now?” he questioned softly, praying the blond would not fly into an all to familiar rage.
Surprisingly, he didn’t. His eyes remained closed and he spoke casually, as though talking about the weather. “Lancelot was attacked because of me. I miss him. Or I did. I don’t feel much of anything at the moment.”
“What do you mean?”
Arthur took in a deep breath, as though preparing himself for a long explanation. “The drugs. It’s strange - like I have no control of my body…or my mouth, apparently.”
Merlin said nothing, finding no words in his mind to respond to such a sentence. He was way out of his depth where Arthur was concerned, desperately floundering for something meaningful or at least remotely helpful to say. Unfortunately, he came up with nothing.
Arthur however, took Merlin’s silence as a cue to continue talking.
“Now that Lancelot’s gone, we should have sex again,” he commented, so random and out of the blue that Merlin could do nothing but splutter in response.
“B-but…you only have sex with people once…apparently.” Merlin shook his head in confusion, suddenly wondering whether they’d got their wires crossed somewhere along the way. Or whether Will had been wrong from the start - something that would come of little surprise, if Merlin was honest.
“Not if I like them,” Arthur replied, still dozing happily against his pillow, despite the obvious stroke he was giving the man next to him.
“Y-you like me?!” Merlin cried, so shocked his voice had raised by several octaves. And despite his best efforts, he was unable to keep a small glimmer of hope from seeping into his words.
“Not really,” the blond responded dully, sounding so brutally honest that Merlin came crashing straight back down to earth. “You’re cute, in a weird sort of way, but you really get on my nerves.”
Merlin scowled, causing Arthur to grin happily up at the ceiling. “Why do you want to have sex again then?!”
Arthur’s mouth contorted into a cheeky smile, eyes flickering open as he leant up onto his forearms. “I dunno,” he grinned lazily, leaning towards Merlin’s body, head cocked and eyelashes fluttering. “You treat me…like a real person.” Arthur’s mouth descended on the curve of Merlin’s neck, his words breathy against his cellmate’s heaving throat. “There’s just something about you.”
Merlin’s chest contracted, but he was frozen in place, unable to do anything but let the blond lay wet kisses across his skin. He knew it was a bad idea, just as he did the first time, but Arthur’s words were soft and coaxing, reducing him to a bumbling quivering wreck.
“Something about me?” he questioned shakily, causing the blond to pause. “Something you can’t quite put your finger on?”
Arthur’s gaze flicked up to Merlin’s face and he nodded, seemingly pleased that his cellmate had understood him. “Yes, exactly,” he responded, voice low and gravely.
“I know how that feels,” Merlin choked, gazing up at the ceiling. It was exactly how he felt about Arthur.
The blond slipped his fingers under Merlin’s shirt and smiled, stroking his stomach lightly. “And how does this feel?” he murmured, before palming his cellmate’s already hardening erection.
Merlin gasped. “Look Arthur, we can’t do this. You’ve managed to drug yourself - I’d be taking advantage of you.”
Arthur stilled his movements, eyebrow raised. “You mean, like how I took advantage of you when you were comforting me about Lancelot?”
Merlin’s gaze flitted away, the reminder sending a sharp jolt down to his stomach. But although he was still hurt by the encounter, he couldn’t deny that he’d wanted Arthur just as much, if not more, than the blond had wanted him.
“I wanted it,” he finally admitted, face flushing.
“And I want this,” Arthur countered, undoing Merlin’s zipper and slipping a hand into his boxers, stroking his erection. “And it seems you do to.”
Merlin let out a low moan, unable to deny it. He sank back into the pillows and raised his legs, allowing the blond to shimmy his trousers down his hips, exposing his cock to Arthur’s hungry gaze.
“What are -? " Merlin broke off as his cellmate’s mouth descended on his erection, taking him deep down his contracting throat. Merlin arched off the bed and bucked his hips, fisting locks of bright blond hair tightly, unable to prevent a ragged cry from escaping his throat.
Arthur chuckled at the sound, muscles vibrating around Merlin’s cock. He sucked hard, bringing his mouth all the way to the base, rubbing his own erection against Merlin’s leg with increasing intensity.
It didn’t take long for Merlin to tense, thighs shaking, as he came down Arthur’s throat. The blond swallowed his cum, letting him ride out his orgasm, while bringing himself quickly to his own release. He shuddered against Merlin’s thighs, letting out a moan around his cellmate’s softening cock and collapsing on top of his body.
Merlin blinked away the grogginess of his orgasm, tilting his head to look down at Arthur’s slumped form. The blond had a hand pressed against his head, chest heaving, looking more dazed than he had before, as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened.
Merlin waited, certain that the blond would soon desert him, but he appeared unable to do anything. They led in silence for a few minutes, Arthur’s breath slowly evening. He looked so peaceful and still that Merlin almost thought he was asleep, until his reddened mouth opened, drowsily addressing the ceiling.
“What happened to Mordred?” the blond questioned, for the first time in the whole conversation, sounding somewhat interested. “For injuring me?”
Merlin sighed. “Nothing. Claimed it was self-defence. And technically, you did try to hit him first.”
Arthur let out a small huff, but appeared completely unable to show any greater display of anger. He merely turned his head, away from Merlin and towards the wall, apparently settling down to sleep. It was only when he spoke again, voice low and quiet, that Merlin realised he was still conscious.
“I hate him,” the blond admitted, drifting slowly off to sleep. “More than anything.”
***
Next Chapter: Chap 7
A/N Sorry this chapter took so long, but there were parts of it that I kept rewriting because I wasn’t happy with it. I’m still not, but I thought I better post it sometime this century XD And as for the drugs, my own experience with them is pretty much limited to hash brownies in Amsterdam, which isn’t really the same thing. But I hope it worked. Something was required to loosen Arthur up. :S
And shout-out to Gauis! He’s not going to be in the story, but he deserved a mention. Next chapter Lancelot’s back, just after Arthur and Merlin are starting to connect. With actual dialogue and everything!
EDIT: I've got a lot of stuff coming up soon, so I don't know how often I'll be able to update. So you don't all think I've died if I don't update in over a week, I'll be writing updates on the Cellmate MasterList saying how many words I've written or when the next chapter is likely to be out. It'll save me from getting paranoid about updates, so if in doubt, check it out :) LOL that rhymed!
PAIRING: Arthur/Merlin
WORDS: This part 4400
GENRE: Modern Au
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
SUMMARY: Merlin Emrys is dead. No really. He just called called the most dangerous prisoner in jail a prat. A prat he happens to be cellmates with. Cue fireworks.
Previous Chapters
***
Cellmate - Chapter 6
Back to Reality
It had been two days since Merlin and Arthur had finally had sex, and the night was never far from Merlin’s mind. Try as he might, he just couldn’t put the experience behind him, choosing instead to stew over Arthur’s careless dismissal and the reasons behind it.
Arthur had never shown sexual interest in him before that night, except perhaps for his half-hearted proposition weeks before, which was causing Merlin to question the motivations behind his cellmate’s abrupt change of heart. The blond had obviously been distressed by Lancelot’s attack, and Merlin had been easy and convenient - an outlet to his worry and anger. The thought upset Merlin more than he'd care to admit, and he wasn't sure why, especially considering he barely liked Arthur most the time.
But sometimes - before he’d catch himself - he’d reminisce over the way Arthur’s skin had felt against his and the way his hair had smelt of smoke and sandalwood. He knew it was stupid, but he found himself growing increasingly obsessed, fascinated by the way Arthur’s twisted mind worked.
His maddening bi-polar, multifaceted personality was so frustrating and difficult to figure out, Merlin was beginning to regard cracking his cellmate’s hard exterior as a personal challenge. He knew from what Gwen had told him that Arthur wasn’t necessarily an evil person, and for the first time - during the night Lancelot had been injured - Merlin had believed her. He’d actually seen the blond as a real person with genuine feelings, rather than a battle-hardened robot intent on making him feel as uncomfortable and inadequate as possible.
But it was strange - Merlin had never felt so conflicted over someone before. Never had he hated someone and liked them so much at the same time. He blamed his hormones…and Arthur’s rather stunning good looks.
However, his obvious growing obsession with Arthur and his unwillingness to let the whole thing go was beginning to put strain on his other relationships. Will for example, was in absolute despair. After telling Merlin not so subtly to pull himself together and stop pining, he had taken to snapping his fingers in front of his friend’s face every time he started to daydream.
“Stop it! Arthur does not have any other levels. He is a criminal, Merlin. He is not any more complicated than that. I don’t know what you’re looking for, but whatever it is, it’s not there. You had sex once - that's it! Get over it!” Will had taken to telling him, as though trying to bring him back to reality and remind him that Arthur was cruel and untrustworthy.
But he needn’t of bothered. Merlin had not forgotten Arthur’s dismissal after they’d slept together, and it still hurt to think about it. He may have taken to admiring the blond from afar, but he certainly wasn’t talking to him.
Since that night Arthur had tried to slip back into their previous routine - consisting mostly of snippy banter and half-assed threats - but Merlin rarely responded. Their strained interactions were making him feel uneasy and he was beginning to wonder what the blond truly wanted from him, now that the sex was over with. But he wasn’t sure Arthur even knew, especially if his increasingly erratic behaviour was anything to go by.
His mood seemed to rapidly decline the longer Lancelot’s absence continued, whether because he genuinely missed him, or because he lacked sex, was anybodys guess. His mood was so foul that even the druids were giving him a wide berth, except perhaps Mordred, whose lingering and silent presence only seemed to aggravate Arthur further.
But whatever the reasoning, something had to change soon, because Merlin didn’t think he could handle the tense atmosphere for one day longer.
***
Dragging himself out of bed the next morning, Merlin sighed, running a hand through his bed hair. He descended the ladder of the bunk and staggered to his feet, trying to shake of his brain’s early-morning fogginess.
Arthur was still in bed but evidently wide awake, watching his cellmate through slightly hooded eyes. Merlin avoided his gaze and turned to get dressed, rooting quickly through his drawers. He could feel Arthur’s now familiar glare on the back of his head and chose to ignore it, attempting instead to appear as cool and nonchalant as possible.
All pretence was lost however, when the blond started to speak.
“You know, if I’d of known you were going to be such a prissy bitch afterwards, I would never of had sex with you,” Arthur informed him, voice bland and twinged with sleep.
Merlin started and spun on a heel, expression indignant as he turned to face his cellmate. “Excuse me?!” he cried.
“I said - "
“I know what you said!” he all but squawked, seconds away from snatching Arthur’s pillow and beating him over the head with it. “I am not a prissy bitch!”
“No,” Arthur said sarcastically, “you’re handling this with real dignity and grace.”
Merlin let out a huff, but knew that neither dignity nor grace were either of his more prominent characteristics. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t meet your standards, your majesty! Not all of us are unfeeling bastards!”
Rather than threaten Merlin for being so disrespectful, Arthur sat up in bed and regarded him with a confused expression. “I thought you understood, Emrys - everyone else does. What happened…well, it’s just what I do.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not what I do,” Merlin hissed, dragging on a shirt and storming out the cell, leaving Arthur blinking blearily behind him.
He charged down to breakfast intent on ranting and raving, only to be disappointed when he realised he was so early Will had not yet arrived. He trudged to the breakfast queue feeling suddenly downtrodden, approaching the counter and regarding the watery porridge with distaste.
“Do you have anything else?” he asked the prisoner serving, wrinkling his nose. After having porridge every morning for the last few weeks, he swore he was beginning to develop an allergy towards it, which only succeeded in souring his mood further.
The server stared at him, regarding Merlin with such astonishment it was as though he’d just dropped out the sky. He was broad and stocky, with dark hair and a heavy brow. “Sausages, bacon and beans. As usual,” he replied, in short clipped sentences that left little room for argument.
“I’m a vegetarian,” Merlin said.
“So, have beans,” the server responded, sounding distinctly unimpressed. “Or porridge.”
Merlin sighed and held out his tray. “I’ll have porridge then, shall I?”
The server gave him a smug smile. “Good choice,” he said, picking up a very heavy ladle and spooning the porridge into his tray with far more force than was necessary.
Merlin frowned but said nothing, slinking over to his usual table and sitting down.
Will joined him a few minutes later.
“So, in a good mood yet?” he asked, dipping an experimental finger into his own porridge and putting it into his mouth. “No? Didn’t think so.”
“The server wouldn’t let me have anything but porridge,” Merlin said, in a rather mournful voice.
“That’s…really tragic,” Will responded hesitantly, looking as though he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or look sympathetic. Instead he took a stab at changing the subject, obviously eager to keep Merlin distracted and the conversation going. “So, are you going to be showering anytime soon?”
“What?” Merlin asked, expression bewildered.
Will rolled his eyes. “Are you going to shower? You haven’t in two days. I couldn't help but notice.”
Merlin opened his mouth and floundered for a few minutes, looking down at the table. He’d avoided the showers since his night with Arthur, mostly because he still had marks all over his body and was unwilling to flash them to everyone. It would confirm his involvement with Arthur to Mordred, and probably result in a lot of abuse from other prisoners. But it had been two days, the marks had not yet faded, and he was beginning to smell; he feared he was just going to have to suck it up and take a wash.
“Yeah, I’m going to shower,” Merlin admitted, causing Will to give him a smile.
“Oh good,” his friend replied, “because I was starting to think you had depression.”
Merlin let out a slightly strained laugh and shook his head, devouring his porridge with new gusto. He all but polished his plate and clapped his hands together, rising from his seat.
“Let’s go, shall we?” he said, realising that if he was going to make it through showering without getting molested, he’d have to go while most of the other prisoners were still having breakfast. He grabbed Will’s shirt sleeve and tugged him to his feet, marching him quickly out of the cafeteria. “We need to go now.”
Will looked bemused by his words, but didn’t say anything, seemingly still half-asleep. He let Merlin lead him to the shower rooms without even complaining, forehead creased blearily. It was only when they entered the changing rooms that he commented, bewildered by Merlin’s change of mood.
“Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever been this early for a shower before,” he said, looking around the almost deserted changing rooms. “Any particular reason you’re in such a rush?”
Merlin stripped off his shirt and flapped his arms around his chest. “Look,” he exclaimed, gesturing to the various marks discolouring his skin.
“Oh,” Will mouthed. “Wow, Arthur really went for it, didn’t he?”
Merlin glared.
“No wonder you wanted to hide them,” his friend continued hastily, quickly brushing over his mention of Arthur. “If the other prisoners saw this, you’d soon become the prison bitch.”
Merlin closed his eyes and groaned, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Worse than that, Mordred would assume I’m sleeping with Arthur.”
Will shrugged. “But…you are?”
“No,” Merlin argued, “I’m not. I did ONCE. As you’ve pointed out numerous times. But if Mordred still thinks I’m in some sort of relationship with him, he might attack me again; look what happened to Lancelot.”
“Well, I suggest you hurry up then,” Will prompted, conceding the point and waving an arm in the direction of the showers. “Before everyone comes in from breakfast.”
Merlin wrapped a towel around his waist and shed his trousers, avoiding Will’s searching gaze. He was just beginning to fold his clothes when the changing room doors opened again, and more prisoners began to enter.
Cheeks reddening, he all but dived into the shower room, before Will had so much as removed his shirt.
But unfortunately, the two people he’d been intent on avoiding were actually the only two people currently in the showers, shrouded by water and steam.
Merlin could see Arthur’s back directly in front of him, long, lean and golden, even through the mist. He was stood opposite a pale white Mordred, whose hair was black with moisture, his bright blue eyes almost the only parts of him visible against the whiteness of the steam. He spotted Merlin immediately, lip curling in distaste, but he said nothing.
“Well, what a surprise, seeing you here,” he said after a strained silence, gaze leaving Merlin and returning to the blond in front of him. His voice was low and level, bored even, but it still sent shivers down Merlin’s spine.
“I knew you'd be here early and I wanted to talk,” Arthur said, sounding by contrast rather hacked off. His shoulders were steeled and tense, muscles contorting from the effort to stop himself leaping on the druid.
“Interesting choice of setting,” Mordred muttered. “Where there’s conveniently no guards.”
Arthur scowled. “There are other prisoners. They’ll arrive soon, but don't worry, this won't take long.”
Mordred’s gaze flicked to Merlin. “Yes, they will,” he replied. “So, I suggest you get on with whatever you wanted to say.”
Arthur’s hands curled into fists and he approached Mordred with deliberate slowness, looking very much like a predator cornering his prey. The druid however, looked anything but intimidated. He watched Arthur’s advance with bright blank eyes, posture relaxed and limbs unmoving.
“If you attack anyone I care about again, you will sincerely regret it,” the blond hissed, pushing Mordred up against the opposite wall.
Merlin watched with bated breath, knowing he should leave while he still could, but unable to get his legs to process his brain’s commands.
Arthur was now inches away from Mordred’s face, arms braced on either side of him to prevent an escape.
“Oh, but Merlin was so much fun,” Mordred deadpanned, expression steely.
The blond blinked, eyebrows creasing. “He’s not who I meant - he’s just my cellmate,” he snapped, causing Merlin to flinch. Not that he was expecting anything less - especially after Arthur’s recent treatment of him - but hearing it out loud was unpleasant nevertheless.
“Just your cellmate?” Mordred questioned coolly, looking over Arthur’s shoulder and down at Merlin’s chest. “Because he looks pretty ravished to me.”
Arthur let out a low growl and raised his fist, a second away from propelling it into the druid’s face.
But unfortunately, at that very moment, Will entered the room with a bang, finally undressed, calling “Merlin!” at the top of his voice.
Arthur started and looked up, giving Mordred the opportunity he needed. Moving faster than Merlin’s eyes could follow, he whipped himself out of Arthur’s grasp and grabbed the side of his face, smacking it against the white tiled wall.
Arthur’s golden head collided with the wall with a sickening crunch, causing Merlin to leap back in horror. The blond slumped unconscious to the ground, head lolling, just as Will came up beside his friend, mouth open and expression gaping.
Mordred looked down at Arthur’s motionless form with polite disinterest, head cocked lightly. He paused for a moment before glided forwards, causing both Merlin and Will to stiffen immediately. But the druid merely breezed straight past them, letting the door swing shut behind him.
Will let out a choked breath. “What the fuck?!”
Merlin ignored him and rushed over to Arthur’s crumpled body, feet sliding dangerously over the slippery wet floor. He collapsed on his knees next to his cellmate and ran a hand through his messy damp hair, finding a small trickle of blood.
“Is he ok?” Will asked hesitantly, just as the door opened and three more prisoners walked in.
“I think so,” Merlin replied, letting out a small sigh of relief. “I think he was just knocked out, but he needs to see Gwen.”
One of the prisoners who had just arrived nodded, turning to head straight back out the door. “I’ll alert someone,” he announced, disappearing seconds later.
“What happened?!” another asked, surveying Arthur’s body in complete bewilderment.
“Fight between Arthur and Mordred,” Merlin replied, by way of explanation.
“Yeah,” the prisoner nodded, looking unsurprised. “That’ll do it.”
***
It was three hours later and Merlin was back in his room, having helped escort an unconscious Arthur to the medical bay. Gwen had confirmed his cellmate’s injuries as severe concussion, but still appeared to be treating him as the blond had not yet returned to the cell.
Merlin was waiting restlessly for his reappearance, if only to confirm to himself that Arthur was alright, considering he’d still been out cold when he’d left the medical bay. It had been rare and rather unnerving to see the blond in such a state, especially as he appeared so strong and unbreakable the majority of the time. It was scary to think Mordred was capable of reducing him to a crumbled heap,and without it seemed, very much effort.
But before Merlin to work himself up into another state of panic about the mysterious druid, the cell door finally opened, revealing a very haggard looking Arthur.
His head was wrapped in a small thin bandage, causing his hair to stick up in messy tuffs. He was stumbling slightly, deep bags under his eyes and clothes rumpled. If Merlin didn’t know better, he’d of thought he was drunk.
“Are you ok?” he asked, watching the blond walk straight past him and collapse on top of his bed, bouncing slightly with the momentum.
“Hmm,” Arthur replied, looking at him through dazed eyes.
Merlin frowned and drew closer, hovering over the bed. “Is that a yes?”
“Yeah…”
“Is your head ok?”
“Yeah…”
“Are you sure? You look strange,” Merlin muttered, narrowing his eyes, surprised that the blond hadn’t yet snapped at him.
“Feeling the effects of the drugs…I guess,” Arthur admitted after a moment, eyelashes fluttering.
“Did Gwen give you some?”
“They didn’t work very well, so I had to get some more,” the blond explained, head lolling back against the pillows.
Merlin paused, shaking his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it still hurt after Gwen gave me the painkillers,” Arthur explained groggily, eyes fluttering closed. “So…I-I went to Gauis for a bit of pain relief.”
Merlin frowned. “Who’s Gauis?”
“The prison drug dealer.”
“Y-you went to the prison drug dealer?” Merlin choked, sounding strangely calm, but suitably aghast.
“Hmm,” came Arthur’s sleepy reply, which Merlin assumed to mean ‘yes’.
“A DRUG DEALER?!” he cried, causing the blond to jerk upwards and blink blearily in surprise.
“Yeah…?” Arthur replied, looking completely bewildered, and now Merlin thought about it, completely spaced-out.
The dark-haired took a deep breath and attempted to gain control of himself, determined to explain the dangers to his apparently oblivious cellmate. “You mixed drugs…?” he continued, willing for Arthur to get the point and recognize his logic. But unfortunately, the blond appeared too dazed to do either.
“Yeah…?” Arthur wondered, forehead creasing, a definite sign he had no idea what Merlin was talking about.
“You can’t mix drugs!” Merlin cried, thoroughly exasperated. Did Arthur not care about his own health at all? He was supposed to be intelligent!
“Well, the painkillers Gwen gave me didn’t seem to be working, so I went to Gauis instead,” Arthur explained, head dropping back onto his pillows. “Then they all seemed to kick in at once.”
Merlin surveyed his cellmate’s slumped form and pursed his lips. “Obviously,” he said.
Arthur’s mouthed quirked but he said nothing more, apparently drifting straight to sleep. That or drug induced coma, Merlin wasn’t sure.
“What did you take?” he questioned, shaking his cellmate’s shoulder to regain his attention.
But the blond merely shrugged. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Can’t remember.”
Merlin gritted his teeth. “Try harder.”
“You’re cute when you’re all bossy,” Arthur commented, letting out a low chuckle and causing Merlin’s heart to rocket into his throat. “But…I still can’t remember.”
“Arthur, it’s important - you could have overdosed,” Merlin said, shaking off the chills over his cellmate’s unwitting flattery. Now was not the time to melt into a puddle of goo just because Arthur had actually complimented him; it was probably just the drugs messing with his mind.
“Don’t be stupid,” Arthur slurred. Apparently, even when drugged, he still thought Merlin was an idiot. “I’ve done this before. I felt weird before, but I’m ok now. Just sleepy….And my head doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Merlin let out a sigh of exasperation, resisting the urge to smack his own head against the wall. “Well, that’s ok then,” he said sarcastically.
Arthur smiled, looking so blissed-out and dreamy that Merlin could barely contain the urge to touch him. Until he ruined the moment. “If I could, I’d hit you,” he mused.
“Well, at least you’re still feeling like yourself then,” Merlin commented, rolling his eyes.
“Hmm,” Arthur agreed, without opening his eyes. Merlin watched him doze for a few moments, before the blond interrupted his reverie. “Stop hovering,” he muttered. Although his words were well within character, his voice lacked its usual bite, causing Merlin to frown in thinly concealed concern.
“Do you take drugs from Gauis often?” he asked, surprised at himself for daring to ask the blond such a personal question. But Arthur appeared to be so spaced-out, he was no longer his usual sharp defensive self; he merely gave Merlin a small smile, breathing shallow.
“Dunno. Like every six months,” he answered quietly, expression smooth and relaxed. “I usually take them when I don’t want to feel so…unhappy.”
Merlin blinked, startled by the disarmingly honest admission. He took in a deep breath and prodded further, hoping the drugs had mellowed Arthur out enough that he wouldn’t receive a punch. “Are you…unhappy now?” he questioned softly, praying the blond would not fly into an all to familiar rage.
Surprisingly, he didn’t. His eyes remained closed and he spoke casually, as though talking about the weather. “Lancelot was attacked because of me. I miss him. Or I did. I don’t feel much of anything at the moment.”
“What do you mean?”
Arthur took in a deep breath, as though preparing himself for a long explanation. “The drugs. It’s strange - like I have no control of my body…or my mouth, apparently.”
Merlin said nothing, finding no words in his mind to respond to such a sentence. He was way out of his depth where Arthur was concerned, desperately floundering for something meaningful or at least remotely helpful to say. Unfortunately, he came up with nothing.
Arthur however, took Merlin’s silence as a cue to continue talking.
“Now that Lancelot’s gone, we should have sex again,” he commented, so random and out of the blue that Merlin could do nothing but splutter in response.
“B-but…you only have sex with people once…apparently.” Merlin shook his head in confusion, suddenly wondering whether they’d got their wires crossed somewhere along the way. Or whether Will had been wrong from the start - something that would come of little surprise, if Merlin was honest.
“Not if I like them,” Arthur replied, still dozing happily against his pillow, despite the obvious stroke he was giving the man next to him.
“Y-you like me?!” Merlin cried, so shocked his voice had raised by several octaves. And despite his best efforts, he was unable to keep a small glimmer of hope from seeping into his words.
“Not really,” the blond responded dully, sounding so brutally honest that Merlin came crashing straight back down to earth. “You’re cute, in a weird sort of way, but you really get on my nerves.”
Merlin scowled, causing Arthur to grin happily up at the ceiling. “Why do you want to have sex again then?!”
Arthur’s mouth contorted into a cheeky smile, eyes flickering open as he leant up onto his forearms. “I dunno,” he grinned lazily, leaning towards Merlin’s body, head cocked and eyelashes fluttering. “You treat me…like a real person.” Arthur’s mouth descended on the curve of Merlin’s neck, his words breathy against his cellmate’s heaving throat. “There’s just something about you.”
Merlin’s chest contracted, but he was frozen in place, unable to do anything but let the blond lay wet kisses across his skin. He knew it was a bad idea, just as he did the first time, but Arthur’s words were soft and coaxing, reducing him to a bumbling quivering wreck.
“Something about me?” he questioned shakily, causing the blond to pause. “Something you can’t quite put your finger on?”
Arthur’s gaze flicked up to Merlin’s face and he nodded, seemingly pleased that his cellmate had understood him. “Yes, exactly,” he responded, voice low and gravely.
“I know how that feels,” Merlin choked, gazing up at the ceiling. It was exactly how he felt about Arthur.
The blond slipped his fingers under Merlin’s shirt and smiled, stroking his stomach lightly. “And how does this feel?” he murmured, before palming his cellmate’s already hardening erection.
Merlin gasped. “Look Arthur, we can’t do this. You’ve managed to drug yourself - I’d be taking advantage of you.”
Arthur stilled his movements, eyebrow raised. “You mean, like how I took advantage of you when you were comforting me about Lancelot?”
Merlin’s gaze flitted away, the reminder sending a sharp jolt down to his stomach. But although he was still hurt by the encounter, he couldn’t deny that he’d wanted Arthur just as much, if not more, than the blond had wanted him.
“I wanted it,” he finally admitted, face flushing.
“And I want this,” Arthur countered, undoing Merlin’s zipper and slipping a hand into his boxers, stroking his erection. “And it seems you do to.”
Merlin let out a low moan, unable to deny it. He sank back into the pillows and raised his legs, allowing the blond to shimmy his trousers down his hips, exposing his cock to Arthur’s hungry gaze.
“What are -? " Merlin broke off as his cellmate’s mouth descended on his erection, taking him deep down his contracting throat. Merlin arched off the bed and bucked his hips, fisting locks of bright blond hair tightly, unable to prevent a ragged cry from escaping his throat.
Arthur chuckled at the sound, muscles vibrating around Merlin’s cock. He sucked hard, bringing his mouth all the way to the base, rubbing his own erection against Merlin’s leg with increasing intensity.
It didn’t take long for Merlin to tense, thighs shaking, as he came down Arthur’s throat. The blond swallowed his cum, letting him ride out his orgasm, while bringing himself quickly to his own release. He shuddered against Merlin’s thighs, letting out a moan around his cellmate’s softening cock and collapsing on top of his body.
Merlin blinked away the grogginess of his orgasm, tilting his head to look down at Arthur’s slumped form. The blond had a hand pressed against his head, chest heaving, looking more dazed than he had before, as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened.
Merlin waited, certain that the blond would soon desert him, but he appeared unable to do anything. They led in silence for a few minutes, Arthur’s breath slowly evening. He looked so peaceful and still that Merlin almost thought he was asleep, until his reddened mouth opened, drowsily addressing the ceiling.
“What happened to Mordred?” the blond questioned, for the first time in the whole conversation, sounding somewhat interested. “For injuring me?”
Merlin sighed. “Nothing. Claimed it was self-defence. And technically, you did try to hit him first.”
Arthur let out a small huff, but appeared completely unable to show any greater display of anger. He merely turned his head, away from Merlin and towards the wall, apparently settling down to sleep. It was only when he spoke again, voice low and quiet, that Merlin realised he was still conscious.
“I hate him,” the blond admitted, drifting slowly off to sleep. “More than anything.”
***
Next Chapter: Chap 7
A/N Sorry this chapter took so long, but there were parts of it that I kept rewriting because I wasn’t happy with it. I’m still not, but I thought I better post it sometime this century XD And as for the drugs, my own experience with them is pretty much limited to hash brownies in Amsterdam, which isn’t really the same thing. But I hope it worked. Something was required to loosen Arthur up. :S
And shout-out to Gauis! He’s not going to be in the story, but he deserved a mention. Next chapter Lancelot’s back, just after Arthur and Merlin are starting to connect. With actual dialogue and everything!
EDIT: I've got a lot of stuff coming up soon, so I don't know how often I'll be able to update. So you don't all think I've died if I don't update in over a week, I'll be writing updates on the Cellmate MasterList saying how many words I've written or when the next chapter is likely to be out. It'll save me from getting paranoid about updates, so if in doubt, check it out :) LOL that rhymed!