Cellmate - Chapter 8
TITLE: Cellmate (8/?)
GENRE: Modern AU
PAIRING: Arthur/Merlin
WORDS: This chap is 4200
RATING: NC-17
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
SUMMARY: Merlin Emrys is dead. No really. He's just called the most powerful man in jail a prat, a prat he just happens to be cellmates with.
Previous Chapters
***
Cellmate
Chapter 8 - Secrets and Lies
Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, gaze flicking subconsciously to the door, heart thumping against his ribcage. It had been months now since he’d last seen his mother, and he was strangely anxious, unsure of what he was going to tell her. He doubted she would take kindly to discovering he’d been sleeping with his criminal cellmate for the last two weeks, especially one that was part of an infamous gang.
He’d spoken to her on the phone a few times since his arrival at the prison, more out of duty than anything else, but he’d told her nothing about Arthur, or in fact Mordred. He feared that she’d worry, more than she was already, which was something that he couldn’t bare to be responsible for. He was already causing her enough heartache by being arrested in the first place.
Shaking his head, Merlin tried to shake the negative thoughts from his mind, determined to appear cheerful for when she arrived.
It was times like this he could do with Will’s cutting humour to distract him. But, typically, when he’d got up that morning he’d found out his friend had been locked in isolation for smarting off at an officer, which had resulted in the routine punishment. Merlin would have found it highly amusing if he hadn’t needed his friend’s support over his mother’s visit, which was hard to come by when said friend wasn't even there.
Arthur hadn’t been much help either. He had appeared his usual stoic self, apparently immune to Merlin’s anxiousness over his mother’s arrival. He didn’t bother questioning his lover over her visit, choosing instead to point-blank ignore his cellmate’s nervousness. In a way Merlin was grateful, glad that he didn’t have to explain the situation, but a small part of him did wish that the blond would show more interest.
However, Arthur soon made up for his lack of concern when he’d convinced Merlin to have early morning sex, something which had successfully distracted him from his mother’s impending visit.
Unfortunately, now Merlin was all alone, with no Will or Arthur to divert his attention. He was sat in the visiting room, surrounded by some of his fellow prisoners, attempting not to vomit all over the table in front of him. He was doing surprisingly well, although he feared he was looking slightly green, especially if the worried looks the guards were giving him were anything to go by.
But before he could work himself up into any more of a frenzy, which he was awfully prone to doing, the door opened, allowing the visitors to file slowly in.
Merlin automatically jumped to his feet, eyes scanning the trail of people nervously, until they finally landed upon his mother.
She looked exactly how he remembered her: dark hair, round shining face, and timid expectant expression. It was strange how she had not changed, when Merlin himself had never felt so different. Bidding goodbye to her at court had seemed like a lifetime ago.
He watched her scan the tables, wringing her hands in a oddly familiar way, before her gaze finally met his own.
A bright, but slightly anxious, smile broke out on her face, causing Merlin’s heart to jump erratically against his ribcage. He could do nothing but watch her approach in absolute silence, arms and legs frozen painfully against his will.
It was only when her arms encircled his waist, trapping him in her cinnamon scented embrace, did Merlin unwind, clasping desperately at her back. He buried his face in her hair, breathing ragged, suddenly realising how much he’d missed her.
But, after too brief a time, they drew back, looking at each other with the same wide-eyed expression.
“How are you?” Hunith asked, face pinched in worry. Her eyes seemed to be scanning Merlin’s face, looking for any sign of ill health or injury, her hands clamped tightly on his arms.
“I’m fine,” he replied honestly, unable to stop himself from smiling at her concern. It had been a strangely long time since he’d seen anyone worry about him, except perhaps Will, and the feeling sent long sharp pangs down to his heart. “Really.”
“Y-you…look well,” Hunith muttered, smiling slightly in reply. Her eyes were shining, wide and glazed, almost at the point of tears.
“I am well,” Merlin grinned, nervousness forgotten, plying himself out of her grip and gesturing to the seat opposite. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Really?” Hunith laughed shortly and without humour, her voice worryingly shaky. “Because it hasn’t sounded like you wanted me to come and see you.”
Merlin looked down at the table, unable to meet her hurt gaze. “I…I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Bother me?!” his mother choked. “You’re my son! I want to know that you’re alright.”
“I am!” he insisted, looking back up, straight into her eyes. “I just didn’t want to cause you more trouble.”
Hunith reached across the table, taking his hand in her soft warm grip. Merlin looked down at it, surprised, finding himself almost in tears himself. It had been so long since someone had touched him affectionately. “It’s no trouble,” she murmured.
Merlin let out a choked laugh, trying to distract himself. “So, how are you doing?”
“Ok,” Hunith smiled, “but I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Glad to hear it,” she said, stroking his fingers. “I did wonder. Your phone calls are always so…brief.”
Merlin looked down at their entwined hands, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry for that. I'm sorry for a lot of things.”
Hunith paused for a moment, watching him with a soft sad expression. “I know you are. But you don’t have to be sorry for things that aren’t your fault.”
Merlin bit his tongue, fighting with the urge to argue. He did need to be sorry. He’d brought his family and friends pain and suffering, whether he’d intended to or not.
“So…” his mother said, brighter than before, trying to break the tension. “How is it in here? Have you got any friends?”
Merlin’s mind flashed back to Arthur, sweaty and naked on top of him. “A couple,” he responded, smiling reassuringly.
“What are they like?”
Merlin thought of Arthur and their complicated not-quite-happening relationship, before his mind flashed to Will, a much safer choice to explain to his concerned mother. “Well, there’s Will. I might have mentioned him in a phone call. He’s fun, loud, and a bit crazy,” he explained, choosing not to mention that his friend was currently residing in isolation for being too much of a smart ass. “He looks after me.”
Hunith smiled genuinely, neither sadly nor strained, eyes twinkling. “Well, I guess I’ll have to meet him someday.”
Merlin nodded, feeling a burst of affection for his friend. “I’m sure he’ll like that.”
His mother squeezed his hand, looking surprisingly pleased and proud. “Anyone else?”
“Um…my cellmate,” he said hesitantly, unsure of how to continue. “His name’s Arthur. We had a few disagreements at first, but now we’ve reached an…understanding.”
“An understanding?”
“Yeah.” Merlin was fairly sure he was blushing, but he looked down at the table, eager to avoid his mother’s eyes.
“What’s he like?” Hunith pressed, forehead creasing in confusion. She seemed intrigued now, silently contemplating her son’s attempt at avoidance, giving his hand another squeeze of reassurance.
“Um…blond," Merlin replied, trying to find things she wouldn’t make a big deal out of. “Sarcastic. A bit maddening. But nice. Sort of.”
Hunith laughed. “Well, now I want to meet him too.”
Merlin smiled, although he feared it was a little bit strained. “I don’t think that would be possible,” he muttered, so low Hunith could barely hear it.
But before she could question his words, a guard clapped his hands together, loudly announcing that visiting time would be over in two minutes.
Both Merlin and Hunith gazed back at each other, unsure of how to say goodbye. The time seemed to have passed so quickly for Merlin, and despite his initial reluctance to see her, he suddenly found he didn’t wish for her to leave.
“Well, I guess this is….” Merlin gestured awkwardly, taking in a rather choked breath. “…Goodbye.”
“I’ll come and see you again,” Hunith said soothingly, bringing his hand to her lips and giving it a breathy kiss. “In a couple of weeks, if that’s OK with you?”
Merlin gave his head a jerky nod. “If…that’s what you want.”
“Of course it is,” his mother said firmly, shaking her head. She met Merlin’s eyes with a frighteningly intensity, although her face was smooth and soft. “I know that you…must feel ashamed about what happened, but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me. You’re my son and I love you. If you need anything - anything at all - just call me.”
Merlin nodded again, fearing if he opened his mouth he’d burst into tears. He’d missed her so much.
He got to his feet and gave her a tight hug goodbye, muttering “bye” into her ear.
“I’ll see you again soon,” Hunith replied, stroking his cheek.
She backed slowly away, giving him one last wave before she disappeared back out the door, following the rest of the visitors.
As she left, Merlin let out a shaky sigh, feeling deserted. He missed her already, in a way that he hadn’t realised until he had seen her. Even just her presence, warm and loving, was comfortable in a way he had almost forgotten.
Glancing around the room, he saw the other prisoners bidding goodbye to their loved ones, all looking reassuringly sombre. Even the surly breakfast server (who refused to serve Merlin anything but porridge) had a visitor, and a very pretty one at that.
She was tall and pale, reminding Merlin very much of Morgana, the striking prison guard. She even had the same long dark hair, although the woman’s eyes were startlingly blue, rather than Morgana’s green. But similarly, she was breathtakingly beautiful, in dark intimidating way. What she was doing visiting such an absolute misery, Merlin had no idea.
Dragging his eyes away from the gorgeous stranger, Merlin got to his feet, feeling almost refreshed, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He waited to be dismissed, suddenly anxious to return to his cell and be reunited with the reassuring rock that was Arthur.
***
Merlin returned to the main part of the prison feeling somewhat relieved. He was glad he’d cleared the air with his mother, as much as he could, and was touched he still had her support if he needed it - it was more than he ever could of asked for.
But by the time he got back, most of the prisoners were in the communal area, playing pool or watching TV. Merlin didn’t like going into the communal area very often, mostly because it consisted of rowdy criminals, but needed to talk to somebody about what had just transpired.
It was only after he’d done a quick round of the room that he remembered Will was still in isolation, alone and unreachable.
Cursing silently, Merlin made to return back to his cell for an early night, when something from the other side of the area distracted him.
It was Arthur, looking all sun-kissed and gorgeous, stood directly opposite Mordred, just as they had been in the showers the day Arthur had been attacked. Except unlike their previous confrontation, it was Mordred, not Arthur, launching the offensive.
The raven-haired druid was mouthing rapidly, back ramrod straight, but Merlin was too far away to distinguish his actual words. He was surrounded by the rest of the druid gang, who all looked livid, fists clenched and bodies shaking. However, they all seemed mindful of the prison guards, who were watching the exchange with increasing wariness, unable to attack Arthur without having to suffer the consequences.
Lancelot was stood just behind the blond, brow furrowed, looking ready to come to Arthur’s aid. He had a placating hand on his friend’s arm, but was saying nothing, letting Mordred and Arthur speak without interruption.
Merlin crept closer, through the throng of other prisoners, whose attention all seemed to be fixed on the unfolding argument.
“What are you talking about, Mordred?” Arthur was saying, just as Merlin moved close enough to be in earshot. The blond appeared genuinely confused, arms crossed defensively, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Mordred hissed, his indifferent demeanour forgotten. His blank expressionless face had been replaced with a snarling mask, his usually smooth features contorted, teeth bared. Merlin wasn’t sure which look was scarier, but knew he didn’t wish to be on the receiving end of either one ever again.
“No,” Arthur said slowly, as though talking to a small child, “I don’t.”
“You got her fired,” Mordred supplied, causing a ripple of confusion to spread through the crowd. All the prisoners - apart from the druids - seemed to have no idea what he was talking about, including Arthur.
“Got who fired?” the blond asked, unable to hide his bewilderment.
“Morgana.”
Arthur’s mouth opened soundlessly for a second, before he collected himself. He glanced back at Lancelot, looking strangely discomfited. “If she’s been fired, it’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Liar!” Mordred cried, apparently unable to contain himself.
The guards stiffened at the raised voice, edging closer, ready to prevent a fight.
“I know you did this,” Mordred continued, voice lowering dangerously, staring at Arthur with narrowed blue-eyes. “For revenge. Because I hurt your lover-boy.”
Lancelot spluttered indigently from behind the blond, looking amusingly affronted. “I am not his lover-boy!”
Mordred’s gaze flickered to Lancelot for a split second, before returning straight back to Arthur. He seemed to be containing the urge to roll his eyes, expression distinctly unimpressed. “Not you, Lothario,” he snapped, teeth grinding together. He dragged his eyes away from the blond once more, moving his all-seeing stare straight through the crowd, before it landed directly on Merlin. “I’m talking about Emrys.”
Merlin took a step back in surprise, heart shooting into his throat, just as everyone turned to look at him. Even Lancelot was staring at him in wide-eyed surprise, looking between him and the blond for confirmation.
But Arthur merely sighed, dismissing Mordred’s words carelessly. “I haven’t done anything to…avenge…Merlin’s attack. Least of all anything involving Morgana.”
“Liar,” Mordred repeated, although he was calmer now, a cold sickening smirk returning to his face. “You told the wardens she’s a druid.”
Loud whisperings broke out among the watching prisoners, shock evident on most people’s faces. Merlin was fairly sure his own mouth was hanging open as well, jaw firmly on the floor. He knew that he shouldn’t of been so surprised, because it certainly explained a lot, but he was floored nevertheless.
“Morgana’s a druid?!” Lancelot gasped, voicing the question of indignation that most people were thinking.
Mordred said nothing, deciding the question was beneath his notice, still staring at Arthur with frightening intensity.
The blond however, seemed to be taking the news better than most. His face had taken on it’s usual stoic mask, although his eyebrows had hurtled up his forehead at Mordred’s words. “Morgana’s a druid.” It was statement, not a question. “That certainly clears up a few things.”
“Like you didn’t know,” Mordred snapped.
Arthur ignored him. “That’s why she always defended you,” the blond continued, looking thoughtful. “Does she have the tattoo?”
“Funny you should say that,” Mordred said, although he didn’t sound amused, “because that’s how they proved she was one.”
Arthur nodded, looking politely interested.
It seemed to piss Mordred off more. “I’ve played it safe for far too long concerning you, Pendragon,” he hissed quietly, stepping closer. “I’m going to make you suffer for what you’ve done. Lover-boy and Lothario too.”
With that, Mordred turned and marched away, leaving Merlin to suppress the shivers running down his spine. It sounded all very mafia to him, and he would have laughed at the words, except he had a sickening feeling Mordred had not been joking.
Arthur watched the druids retreat with wary eyes, Lancelot hovering nervously by his side. It was only when Mordred disappeared out the door that he looked away, giving his friend a small helpless shrug. They exchanged a few brief quiet words before the blond moved away, heading out of the communal area and towards the cells.
Merlin swallowed the lump in his throat and followed him.
***
“What was all that about?!” Merlin asked, following Arthur back into the room and closing the cell door behind him.
“What do you mean, 'what was that all about’?!” the blond repeated, rolling his eyes. “You were there.”
Merlin shrugged, looking sheepish. He couldn’t help that he often made idiotic remarks to initiate conversation or break tension, it came automatically to him. Kind of like embarrassing himself. “It was a rhetorical question,” he said.
Arthur belly-flopped onto his bed and ran a hand through his golden hair. “You really do just talk for the sake of it, don’t you?”
“No, I -”
“It was a rhetorical question,” the blond interrupted, throwing Merlin’s own words back at him and smirking at his small verbal victory.
Merlin scowled, but did not dignify the remark with a reply. “So, are we going to talk about this?” he asked, sounding far more confident than he ever would of dreamed. It was strange the effect Arthur’s sneering, sarcastic words had on him. “Or are you going to carry on insulting me to avoid it.”
The blond looked surprised by the conviction in Merlin’s tone, but responded nevertheless, working to keep his voice cool and indifferent. “Talk about what?”
“About what happened downstairs!” Merlin cried, flailing his arms around in exasperation. “Mordred threatened us!”
Arthur rolled onto his back and looked up at him, expression unreadable. He seemed to be contemplating how to reply, eyes scanning his cellmate critically. Finally, he gave his shoulder a half-assed shrug and smiled, utterly relaxed, although it did not quite meet his eyes. “Mordred has threatened me numerous times in the past. It’s nothing to worry about,” he said, sounding surprisingly reassuring, despite the way Merlin’s mouth had dropped open in indignation.
“Nothing to worry about?!” he squawked, so high-pitched that Arthur jumped slightly in shock.
“He’s tried to attack me once before, and that was before anything was going on between us! And what about poor Lancelot?!”
The blond let out a sigh, evidently realising his cellmate was about to work himself into a panic. “Well, he’s warned us now - we’ll be prepared,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, causing Merlin’s heart to jump into his throat at the mention of ‘we’. “Besides, maybe he’ll realise that it really wasn’t me who grassed on Morgana.”
Merlin shifted anxiously, but looked slightly placated. “And if he doesn’t?” he said, although he was unable to keep a small slither of hope from creeping into his voice. “Did you know Morgana was a member of the druids?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, I honestly didn’t.”
The words sounded so firm and open that Merlin instantly believed them. “Ok, so who reported her then?” he asked, as though Arthur would know.
The blond shrugged and rolled his eyes, although he was unable to keep his own uncertainty from twisting his features. “I don’t know, Emrys. I’m not psychic!”
But Merlin ignored the jibe, distracted by Mordred’s words. “How come no prison officers knew?” he asked quietly, more to himself than Arthur. “Aren’t guards supposed to be screened before being hired here? Like a background check?”
“Yeah….But I doubt Morgana goes around wearing a ‘I’m a proud member of the druids’ T-shirt in her spare time,” Arthur deadpanned, gazing up at the ceiling. “The members are supposed to be a secret.”
“Oh,” Merlin mouthed, pausing for a second. “This whole thing is getting really weird.”
The blond shrugged in agreement, but said nothing in reply. After a minute or so of silence, he leant up slightly and grasped onto the edge of Merlin’s shirt, tugging it towards him.
Merlin went without complaint, having nothing else to add to the conversation. He crawled onto the bed and attempted to push the Mordred situation to the back of his mind, surprising comforted that he and Arthur had fallen back into their now familiar routine. It had been a strange bewildering day, and Merlin was shockingly grateful that the blond could be relied on not to change; he was as indifferent and unflappable as ever.
Kissing him with vigour that Arthur wasn’t expecting, Merlin clambered on top of him, anchoring his legs around his cellmate’s hips. He kissed at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sucking the soft skin into his eager mouth.
The blond grinned and let out a moan, arching his neck into Merlin’s mouth. The sound did very strange things to Merlin’s heart, which skittered embarrassingly in his chest.
Hoping that Arthur couldn’t hear or feel it, he grabbed the hem of his cellmate’s shirt, hiking it up and over his head. The blond hummed in approval, hands fisting clumps of Merlin’s hair, pulling him back down for a kiss.
But Merlin grinned cheekily, avoiding his lips and licking softly at his jaw. Gradually he worked his way downwards, down past Arthur’s throat and towards his chest, stroking his sides as he went.
However, as he sucked at the indentation of his collarbone, Merlin noticed something very different about Arthur's body. Vivid red marks marred the usually flawless skin, scarlet and angry on his chest. Merlin sucked in a deep breath, instantly knowing from Arthur’s orders not to mark that it was not him who put them there.
“You’ve…you’ve been with someone else,” Merlin stated with absolute certainty, his voice low and breathy. He felt as though somebody (well, Arthur) had sucker-punched him in the stomach, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his body and knocking all the air from his lungs. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe, as though his heart was lodged painfully in his throat, rather than shattering into a million pieces.
But Arthur - apparently oblivious to his pain - merely blinked, giving one shoulder a half-shrug. “Yeah, so?”
Merlin let out a very weak laugh, which even sounded feeble to his own ears, moving slowly off the bed. “So?!” he repeated, voice sounding pathetically shaky compared to Arthur’s confident drawl.
“It was just a hand job,” the blond explained, brow beginning to furrow in confusion. He pulled himself up onto his forearms and watched Merlin’s retreat with wary eyes, licking his lips with growing anxiousness. “It was hardly something to write home about.” He gestured to the marks scattered over his chest with an almost blasé wave. “He just got a bit overexcited.”
“Who?” Merlin found himself asking, although he didn’t really want to know, voice deceptively hollow.
Arthur frowned. “The new kid.”
“Owain?” Merlin pictured him, the guy who had arrived only a couple of days before, the morning after Lancelot's return. He had paid him no mind, except to note that he was no longer the newbie, and hadn’t contemplated for one second that Arthur might go for him. Well, he was certainly kicking himself now.
“Yeah, that’s it,” the blond confirmed, looking completely bewildered. He got to his feet and tried to approach his cellmate, only for Merlin to stagger back in response, flinching away from his touch.
“Don’t!” Merlin cried automatically, sounding far stronger than he had seconds before.
“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, beginning to grow increasingly alarmed.
“What do you mean, ‘what’s wrong’?!” Merlin yelled, causing the blond to take a small step backwards.
Arthur frowned, beginning to put the pieces together. “Oh, you’re not…jealous are you?” The blond said ‘jealous’ as though it was a dirty word.
Merlin said nothing.
“You must have known this would happen, Emrys,” Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What were you expecting? That we’d get together and live happily ever after?”
The blond sounded mocking, something that never failed to get Merlin’s blood boiling. He clenched his fists, containing the urge to begin a physical fight he knew he would lose. “Then maybe you should have explained it to me, instead of just silencing me every time I tried to talk!” Merlin hissed, eyes flashing dangerously.
“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Arthur replied easily, shrugging his shoulders. “Besides, my...promiscuous nature is hardly a prison secret. You didn’t enter this arrangement blind, so don't give me the wide-eyed victim routine!”
“Yes, stupid me for thinking that maybe you weren’t just a lying, pig-headed slut!” The words tore from Merlin’s throat before he could stop them, blinded by unexplainable rage. He didn’t care if Arthur punched him, as he was in so much pain anyway it was unlikely to make much of a difference. “Stupid to think that maybe you could be my -”
“Your what?!” Arthur cut across him, voice acidic now, face thunderous. “You knew it was just sex from the beginning, Emrys. I am NOT your boyfriend!”
“No,” Merlin said calmly, backing quickly out the door. “You are not my anything, anymore.”
To be continued…
Chapter 9
***
DUN DUN DUNNN! Well, that was dramatic! XD
I like this chapter because it starts to connect the story together, but I have a feeling most
readers aren’t gonna like it because of the ending. Sorry XD! Had to give Merlin a wake up call,
and Arthur as well! But it can’t come as much of a surprise, I did a lot of not so subtle
foreshadowing last chapter. I even mentioned Gawain :P
As always, on the Cellmate Masterlist, I'll be posting updates on the next chapter and when it's likely to be out XD
Comments are really appriciated :) They keep me writing!