Cellmate - Chapter 13

[lcacbc]

TITLE: Cellmate (13/14)
PAIRING: Merlin/Arthur
RATING: NC-17
GENRE: Modern AU
WORDS: This chap is actually 5000!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, as per usual.

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.

A/N Sorry for the long delay with this chap, but I was in hospital for a week. I'm fine now, but if this chapter is rubbish, I blame it on the operation XDD

Previous Chapters

***

Cellmate
Chapter 13 - If There's Any Justice



“Well, that’s a relief,” Merlin sighed, staggering into their cell and collapsing down onto Arthur’s bed. “At least Uther agreed to help.”

“Yeah, I guess,” the blond replied, not looking altogether enthusiastic. He appeared contemplative more than anything, strangely conflicted, face twisted into a confused frown.

“He’s scary though,” Merlin continued, realising that Arthur was not going to say anything further. The last thing he wanted was for the blond to descend into one of his marathon brooding sessions, so he attempted to keep him distracted, even if it meant more endless monologuing. “Like you, just less good looking.”

Arthur’s head snapped up. “I’m nothing like him,” he sniped.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but was secretly glad he’d got a reaction. “I just mean very intimidating,” he placated, giving the blond what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

But Arthur looked anything but reassured. If anything, Merlin’s actions seemed to confuse him further. He crossed his arms in what almost looked like a defensive gesture, cocking his head sharply, giving it a small frustrated shake. “I don’t understand. What is it that you want, Merlin?” he said at last, looking visibly strained at asking such a question. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” Merlin replied, sitting up and staring at his cellmate in complete bafflement. This was hardly the post-success celebration he’d been expecting.

Arthur threw up his arms, uncharacteristically flustered. “This! Helping me. With Uther. Mordred. Everything.” He took a deep breath and paused, looking away. When he spoke again his voice was soft but pained, as though he could barely believe what he was saying. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I’m wondering why. You came with me to see Uther today even though it clearly made you uncomfortable. Why?!”

Merlin floundered for several moments, mouth opening and closing in surprise. He would have thought the answer was pretty obvious, even to someone as oblivious as Arthur, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to admit the reason out loud.

“It’s just, you’ve made it clear you don’t want to be with me, so why do you care so much?" Arthur continued, evidently realising that Merlin wasn’t going to do anything but gape in a rather gormless fashion.

Avoiding the question, Merlin gathered his wits and looked the blond straight in the eye, drawing himself up for the conversation he'd been waiting for. “Arthur, I never said that I didn’t want to be with you,” he stated calmly, watching his cellmate recoil slightly in surprise.

“Then, what - ?” The blond shook his head, suddenly looking suspicious. He paused for several long moments and breathed in deeply, watching his cellmate's every move with wary eyes. “You pushed me away last time. Said that you couldn’t be with me again.”

“Not because I didn’t want to be with you,” Merlin explained, surprised that the blond didn’t already know. He gathered his courage and continued, unable to meet Arthur's eyes, gazing steadfastly at the opposite wall. “That was the problem. I really wanted to be with you. Not like the last time. Properly.”

Catching onto Merlin’s meaning, the blond considered him, eyebrows raised. “Exclusively?” he concluded, looking uncertain. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot as he waited for his cellmate’s reply, expression visibly strained.

“Yes.” Merlin felt nervous now, more exposed than he’d felt in Arthur’s presence for a long time, almost all his cards laid out before him.

But the blond blinked, giving his arms an exaggerated wave. He was looking at Merlin with a disbelieving expression, eyes uncharacteristically wide. “Why didn’t you say something?!” he cried.

“What would be the point?!” Merlin shot back, standing up and drawing himself up to Arthur’s height. He knew that the time to be honest had come, and he had no intention of holding back, realising that there was no longer any point in lying or pretending. His feelings were already almost completely revealed, and he was surprisingly happy for it, almost relieved to finally be getting some closure. “Would you have been willing to do that?! Be exclusive?!”

The question hit Arthur hard, causing him to falter for several seconds, struggling to find an answer. He squared his jaw stubbornly and licked his lips, eyes flickering over Merlin’s face searchingly. “Maybe,” he replied at last, as though challenging his cellmate to contradict him.

But Merlin did nothing, heart thumping, as he ran his gaze over Arthur’s features. “Maybe…?” he repeated faintly, completely unsure of what to make of the reply. It was just like Arthur to give such a vague and unhelpful answer. “Maybe.” He ran a hand over his face and sighed, before looking back up to meet his cellmate’s unwavering stare. “Is that a yes, Arthur? Because if it’s not, why are we wasting our time? You have to be sure.”

The blond seemed to bristle as Merlin’s words, steeling himself determinedly, looking decidedly less uncertain. “It’s a yes. I can be exclusive. I’m sure.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, unwilling to let himself believe the fanciful words, confused as a result of months worth of mind games and uncertainty. “Really?” he scoffed, voice rising in pitch. “Because you didn’t sound sure a second ago. And what happens when the next newbie comes along and wants a bit of the action. Could you say no?”

Arthur gritted his teeth, looking angry at the assumption regarding his lack of self control. “Yes,” he snapped, although it sounded more instinctive than honest.

“Look, Arthur,” Merlin sighed, taking in a long calming breath, “I just want you to think about this. I want you to be certain. I never want to walk in on you someday, having sex with someone else. Because honestly, I don’t think I’d be able to take it.”

The blond moved forwards slightly, placing his hand on Merlin’s arm, his expression melting into something much softer, something almost caring. “Merlin….”

“Please just think about it,” Merlin interrupted, attempting to stop his voice from cracking. “Do you really want to be with me more than anyone else? And are you willing to be faithful to me, no matter who propositions you? And do you trust me enough to be an equal in a relationship?”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Merlin continued before he could speak, needing to get the words out while he still could.

“Think about it,” he reiterated, as calmly as he was capable. “Then come to me with your answer. Because I don’t want you making a rash decision now and changing your mind later. You have to be sure you want this as much as I do.”

“And if I do?” Arthur asked, watching Merlin closely, his expression almost frighteningly intense.

“Then we get together,” Merlin supplied, his stomach doing somersaults at the thought.

The blond raised an eyebrow, mulling it over in his mind. “Like boyfriends?” he said sceptically, his face twisting in distaste.

Merlin couldn’t help but laugh at the expression, mood lightening ever so slightly. “Yes.”

Arthur nodded, letting out a small, brief smile. “I’ve never had a proper boyfriend before,” he admitted, sounding thoughtful.

Merlin’s heart stopped. “Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he muttered.

***

“Oh my god, Arthur,” Lancelot muttered, as soon as Merlin and Arthur walked down for breakfast the next morning, sounding a little bit dazed. He was shaking his head ruefully, eyes shining and lips curling into a rather bemused smile. “Your father is a scary man.”

“What do you mean?” the blond asked, blinking back at him. His posture immediately straightened, as it always did at the mention of his father, and he folded his arms, as though he was expecting to hear something terrible.

But Lancelot merely let out a breathy laugh, one full of both happiness and relief. “Nimueh was arrested this morning,” he announced, sounding faintly disbelieving.

“What?!” Merlin squawked, before Arthur could respond. His heart rocketed into his throat, almost choking him, stealing his breath and rendering him speechless. “What?!”

“She was arrested this morning,” Lancelot reiterated, allowing the news to sink in before saying anything further.

“Already?!” Arthur cried, sounding almost as shell-shocked as Merlin felt. “What?! How?!”

“Uther,” Lancelot muttered, as though that explained everything. He shook his head again and shrugged, waving his arms around helplessly. “It all kicked off last night, apparently. Uther was none too happy about Nimueh targeting her son.”

“So, he did what Uther does best,” Mordred continued, appearing from behind Lancelot and fixing Arthur with an unwavering stare. Even he looked cooler and calmer than Merlin had seen him in a while, face shining ethereally with something close to glee. “He went all tyrant and screwed her over.”

Deliberately ignoring the malice behind Mordred’s words, Arthur turned to speak to him, weighing his words out slowly. “What do you mean?”

“He handed over our recordings - as well as Nimueh’s taped confession - to the police this morning,” Mordred explained, lip curling. “Imagine the cops surprise when Uther Pendragon strolls into the station, flanked by two minions and clutching a suitcase full of evidence incriminating a fellow gang leader. Their faces much have been a picture.”

“How do you know this?” Merlin couldn’t stop himself from asking, suddenly convinced that Mordred had made the whole thing up. There was just no way it had actually happened; It was far too good to be true.

Mordred fixed Merlin with a disgusted look and didn’t bother dignifying his question with a response, turning his gaze straight back to Arthur.

“His gang connections,” Lancelot supplied, evidently realising Mordred was not going to answer. Merlin supposed it should have been obvious, but his mind was still trying to process the implications of Nimueh’s arrest, incapable of registering anything but supreme relief. “They contacted him this morning with the news.”

“They’re delighted,” Mordred said, obviously referring to his fellow gang members. He smiled, eyes slanting, and Merlin instantly remembered why he had always feared the druid, his expression positively evil. “One less enemy to worry about. Nimueh’s gang is all but destroyed. Her followers are angry, of course, but they’re lost without their leader. Uther works fast, I must admit. He must have already had lots of stuff on her from before the truce; It's the only way he could have gathered evidence fast enough.”

Lancelot shrugged a shoulder, inclining his head. “That’s probably why they created the truce in the first place,” he mused, looking over at Arthur for some sort of confirmation.

But the blond merely shrugged, looking none too surprised by the new developments. He seemed to be mulling the information over in his mind, unsure of whether to be happy, shocked or grateful to his father.

It was only after a long pause that he spoke again, face twisting distastefully, as though something unpleasant had just occurred to him. “So, Uther used the information we obtained then?” he asked, glancing from Mordred to Lancelot with poorly disguised interest, steadfastly avoiding Merlin’s eyes. “About Merlin’s case?”

“Yes,” Mordred answered simply, giving his head a slow nod. “It’s going up for appeal.”

Merlin blinked, inhaling a lungful of air. “What?!” he choked, looking around at the three of them with his mouth hanging open. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you’ll be free, Merlin,” Lancelot replied, giving the dark-haired man a warm happy smile. “As soon as everything’s sorted. Uther completely exposed Nimueh and her plans, so I don’t think it was too difficult for him to find the evidence proving your innocence.”

“Free?” Merlin repeated, the word running on loop through his mind. He gazed back at Lancelot blankly, feeling as though he’d just been hit in the face by something incredibly heavy. “Free?”

Lancelot nodded, looking genuinely quite pleased for him. “Yes, free.”

Mordred on the other hand, let out a rather distasteful sigh, fixing Arthur with an all too familiar glare. “Well, it’s alright for some,” he hissed, crossing his arms. “Thanks to Uther, I’m going to be in here as long as Nimueh.”

The blond scowled. “Don’t give me that,” he snapped, looking decidedly unsympathetic. “My father got you arrested for crimes you did commit, remember? You were never innocent like Merlin.”

“You were never innocent either, Arthur,” Mordred pointed out, raising his chin challengingly. His fists curled and he balanced himself on the balls of his feet, looking slight and nimble under Arthur's deadly stare. “Although you committed your…crime in self defence, you’re still going to be in here as long as me.”

The blond said nothing, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

So Mordred continued, obviously encouraged by Arthur’s deliberate lack of response. “And Merlin’s not. Merlin’s going free.”

A heavy silence descended on the group, with both Arthur and Mordred staring at each other unblinkingly, the blond looking stony and the druid looking victorious. Both Merlin and Lancelot gazed between them, holding a collective breath, until Arthur spoke, sounding as though he was using all his remaining self-restraint not to punch Mordred in the face.

“You know, now that Nimueh’s gone, we’re not really allies anymore,” he snapped after a moments pause, talking a threatening step closer to the druid, muscles coiled and shoulders steeled. “Which means I’m well within my rights to kick your ass!”

“Arthur!” Lancelot cried immediately, looking irritated. “Don’t rise to the bait!”

The blond rolled his eyes, but did as his friend asked, retreating back slightly, face pained and pinched. He crossed his arms and glared at the druid from beneath his fringe, although he said nothing further, moodily conceding to Lancelot’s words.

“Well, as fun as this has been,” Mordred muttered, when nobody seemed inclined to say anything, “I’ll be going now.” He gave the blond another sideways glare, ignoring both Merlin and Lancelot completely, and turned to leave, whipping around on a graceful heel.

However, before he’d moved more than a metre, Merlin cried out, another horrific thought just occurring to him. “Wait!” he called, causing Mordred to freeze. “What about our other problem?”

“What other problem?” Lancelot asked instantly, sounding alarmed.

Both he and Arthur blinked at Merlin in confusion, before simultaneously turning to Mordred, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What, me?!” the druid scoffed, scowling disgustedly.

“No, not you,” Merlin replied, rolling his eyes. Mordred was certainly still a threat, even if they had been temporary allies, but he was not the person who Merlin had been referring to. “I mean Tristan.”

Lancelot, Arthur and Mordred all stared at him, faces blank with incomprehension. None of them had evidently given Nimueh’s minion much thought.

“Oh, yeah,” said Lancelot, after a lengthy pause, looking towards Mordred hopefully.

But the druid merely scowled and shrugged, looking thoroughly uninterested. “What are you looking at me for? I don’t know what happened to Tristan.”

Merlin sighed, stomach sinking with dread. “So, he’s probably still after us then?” he concluded, praying to hear some evidence on the contrary. But when nobody spoke to contradict him, he groaned, burying a hand in his hair. “He'll be after us now more than ever, considering we’ve had his girlfriend arrested.”

“Well, it’s not as though the police could arrest him for his involvement anyway,” Lancelot pointed out, sounding resigned. “He’s already in prison.”

“Yes,” Merlin replied, voice cracking slightly, unable to contain his sudden hysteria. It was hardly fair that when they sorted one problem, another instantly arose. “This prison! Where he could attack at any moment!”

Arthur sighed, looking supremely unconcerned. “Relax, Merlin,” he said softly, shrugging his shoulders, “he’s not going to attack us here - oh! Hello Tristan!”

For one very brief moment, Merlin assumed Arthur was making some sort of practical joke. However, as the blond gazed over Merlin’s shoulder with something akin to wariness in his eyes, drawing himself up to his full height, Merlin gasped and spun round, coming face to face with the glowering cafeteria worker, who was grinding his teeth and breathing heavily, muscles flexing in his arms.

“Well, that was good timing,” Merlin heard Mordred mutter in the background, sounding nothing but faintly amused, typically unconcerned by Tristan’s sudden and alarming appearance.

But both Arthur and Lancelot had stiffened, drawing slowly forward and placing themselves between Merlin and the criminal, postures threatening and expressions stony.

“What is it that you want, Tristan?” Arthur asked calmly, eyes flickering around the edges of the cafeteria, as though hoping for some support.

However, the rest of the prisoners (as well as the guards) appeared completely oblivious to the unfolding scene, tucking into their breakfasts with their usual gusto, believing nothing was amiss. Merlin could even identify Will, sat a number of tables away, happily munching on his Cheerios.

“What do you think, Pendragon?” Tristan hissed, snapping Merlin from his reverie, face contorting, and fist lashing out from his side. Clutched in his hand, with a faint sense of horror, Merlin vaguely recognised the outline of a blunt metal weapon, just before it struck.

Taken completely by surprise, Lancelot didn’t have time to do anything but blink bemusedly as he was walloped upside the head, the strike echoing with a painful crack. His eyes rolled backwards and his body crumpled, dropping motionlessly to the ground with a resounding thump.

Merlin let out a small faint squeak, dimly registering both Arthur’s and Mordred’s expressions of complete disbelief, before Tristan moved again, launching himself straight towards the blond and tackling him to the ground.

The cafeteria server’s jump caught Merlin as well, an elbow smacking him in the ribcage, sending him tumbling onto the cold tiled floor, rolling a few times with the momentum. He hazily registered hearing Arthur’s own ’oomph’ of surprise as he attempted to scramble back onto his hands and knees, feeling winded, confused and dizzied by the fall.

He could hear shouts of alarm now ringing through the area, and the bustling of the crowds descending upon the fight, eager to see the commotion, but could see nothing but the blurred tiles of the ground, dancing vividly with various multi-coloured spots.

Blinking repeatedly, he dragged himself into a sitting position and looked around frantically, immediately spotting where Tristan and Arthur had landed just a few feet away, still locked in a tangle of limbs. The blond was led backwards, pinned to the floor, looking pale and unfocused, a small trail of blood trickling from his hair. He appeared dazed and confused, clutching at Tristan’s shirt with shaking hands.

With a sharp pang of horror, Merlin realised that Arthur must have been concussed with the fall, and was too stunned to really fight back, head lolling and bleeding profusely.

So, letting out a heroic battle cry, Merlin did the only thing he could and lurched forwards, ready to wrap his arms around Tristan’s neck and squeeze for all that he was worth, determined to come to Arthur's aid.

However, before he’d moved more than a metre, a familiar hand tugged at his waist and pulled him backwards, deliberately away from the fight.

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin,” Will said in his ear, through a mouth full of cereal. “Let the guards handle it.”

But the guards were not given the chance. Just as they began to wrestle through the prisoners, towards the place Arthur and Tristan were struggling on the ground, Mordred turned to his followers, who all seemed to have appeared magically at his side. He gave his head a small jerk and they scattered, placing themselves as obstacles in the two guards paths, deliberately halting their intervention.

“Mordred!” Merlin cried, aghast, panic flaring in his chest.

But the druid blinked innocently, giving his shoulders a careless shrug. “What?! As Arthur said: ‘We’re not allies anymore,’” he repeated, shaping his fingers into sarcastic quotation marks. “And it’s much more fun this way.”

And unfortunately, most of the prisoners seemed to agree. They created a circle around the fight, all pushing and shoving to get a better view, faces eager and hungry for bloodshed, with none of them making any move to interfere.

Merlin suddenly found himself feeling uncontrollably nauseous and swayed dangerously as he watched the scene unfold, completely terrified, but utterly incapable of looking away.

Arthur appeared to have got over his shock now, and was starting to fight back, arching his back off the ground and twisting his wrists from Tristan’s bruising grasp, struggling for his freedom. But he was already at a disadvantage, with the cafeteria worker’s heavy weight on top of him, and had no chance of dislodging him without extra help.

“Arthur’s hurt. I’ve got to do something!” Merlin cried, thrashing against Will’s grip but unable to escape.

“What are you going to do?!” Will gasped, tightening his hold. “You’re just going to get yourself hurt!”

Merlin knew that Will was most definitely right, but couldn’t stop himself struggling, eyes widening in horror as Tristan wrapped a hand around Arthur’s neck. The blond flailed, his legs kicking uselessly, but was thankfully able to extract a hand from Tristan’s distracted hold. He launched his palm upwards with all his might, straight for the cafeteria worker’s nose, and heard it crack loudly upon impact.

Tristan reeled backwards, clutching his face, blood streaming from his nostrils and staining Arthur’s chest a scarlet red, momentarily blinding him. But the pain had provided him with a necessary distraction and the blond instantly seized it, using Tristan’s surprise to knock him off balance and onto the floor.

He rolled away from the cafeteria worker’s flailing limbs and clambered upright, looking sick and woozy under the bright cafeteria lights, but still alert, fists bawled threateningly.

After a moments pause, despite his evident confusion, his eyes immediately focused on an object led on the outskirts of the fighting area, just in front of the ring of spectators. It was long, rounded and made of metal, something that Merlin couldn’t name, but immediately identified as the weapon Tristan used to attack Lancelot.

However, the cafeteria worker seemed to spot it just as Arthur did, eyes widening in realisation.

Both he and Arthur flung themselves towards it, causing the other prisoners to reel back in surprise, faces creased in alarm. They both landed on the floor with a thumb, bodies tangled as attempted to scramble over each other, both desperate to reach it first. Arthur ended up only a few inches away, arm outstretched, when Tristan flung out his foot, kicking him straight in the stomach and knocking the wind right out of him.

The blond collapsed with a loud groan, momentarily paralysed, unable to do anything to prevent the cafeteria worker from launching over him and grapping the metal rod, holding it up triumphantly in his fist.

The guards, upon seeing the weapon, attempted to wrestle through the remaining druids, looking alarmed now, walky-talkies beeping loudly in their pockets. But they were too far away, still lost in the crowd, and Merlin felt his heart constrict painfully as their helplessness.

Tristan had whipped back round to face Arthur, weapon aloft, just about to strike, when Merlin let out a gasp. Doing the only thing he could think of, he ripped himself out of Will’s grasp and launched himself straight onto the cafeteria worker’s back, clinging to him with all his might.

He caught the criminal around the neck and caused him to stagger in surprise and swear obscenities at the ceiling, great bulk stumbling awkwardly. He swung around, attempting to shake Merlin off with great jerking movements, but the dark-haired man merely clung on tighter, lodging his arms around the man’s neck and attempting to throttle him.

But unfortunately, despite being taken by surprise, Tristan was both big and strong, more than a match for Merlin’s long gangly limbs. He finally caught Merlin’s hands in his grip and twisted, breaking their hold around his torso and squeezing painfully, causing Merlin to yelp and let go, immediately sliding straight off the slope of Tristan’s back. He slumped to the floor and clutched his wrists in agony, just as the cafeteria worker whipped around and bore down on him, fists clenched and expression thunderous.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to Nimueh, you little shit,” he hissed, raising his arm to belt Merlin straight across the face. “You and Blondie.”

However, just as Merlin recoiled in fear, he saw a flash of blond hair move in the background, just behind Tristan’s head.

A second later, the cafeteria worker slumped lifelessly to the ground, head bleeding copiously, with Arthur stood over him, clutching the long metal weapon in his hands.

Merlin blinked blearily, his heart almost bursting from his chest, the cafeteria instantly descending into absolute silence. He could even hear himself breathing in the roaring quiet, long and ragged, sweat rolling down the side of his face and blurring his vision.

“He dropped it when he was struggling with you,” Arthur explained softly, looking down at the weapon in hands and dropping it to the floor. It hit the tiles with an almost deafening clang and rolled away, stopping slowly next to Tristan’s motionless body.

“Well, that was exciting,” Mordred said into the silence, seemingly jolting everyone from their trances.

The guards pushed forwards, this time unchallenged by the druids, and snapped cuffs on Tristan’s dangling wrists, just as Arthur’s knees buckled and he slumped slowly to the ground.

He and Merlin stared at each other, neither blinking, both weak and cringing in pain. Arthur was gasping, like he’d just run a marathon, when in fact the fight had lasted no longer than a couple of minutes, both his and Tristan's blood completely coating his torso.

He stared at Merlin in bemusement, just as the guards descended on them, looking nothing but completely shell-shocked. “Merlin, I can’t believe you just did that,” he said disbelievingly, shaking his golden head.

***

One day later, Merlin was still pacing up and down his cell, eagerly awaiting Arthur’s return.

After Tristan had been dragged away, kicking and screaming the day before, Lancelot and Arthur had both been taken to the medical bay in order to be looked over, only for the blond to be taken into isolation an hour later. Considering he’d had a ferocious fight with a fellow criminal, Merlin had expected the blond to be gone for days, but Will had delightfully informed him that Arthur would be released after only a night, the guards evidently taking into account that he’d only been acting in self-defence.

So, Merlin waited impatiently, glancing at the door every few seconds, wanting to reassure himself that Arthur was both safe and uninjured. The fight had scared the life out of him, and he never wanted to feel so helpless again, watching Arthur get hurt while powerless to stop it.

He let out a cry of frustration and sunk dejectedly onto the bed, burying his head in his hands, just as the cell door swung open.

“Merlin?” Arthur questioned hesitantly, crossing over the threshold.

Merlin leapt to his feet and tackled his cellmate around the waist, clutching at his back and burying his face into his neck. He suppressed a sob of relief as Arthur’s arms encircled him, breathing in his scent with long loud inhalations, barely able to control the elation rolling off him in waves.

“Are you ok?” he asked, voice muffled against Arthur’s shoulder.

The blond snorted, sounding gruff but strangely affectionate. “I’m fine. I should be asking you the same thing after what you did yesterday,” he muttered, pressing a kiss into the side of Merlin’s neck.

Merlin let out a choked laugh, attempting to breeze over it. “Oh, it was nothing,” he lied, ignoring the pointed throb of his wrists where Tristan had bruised him. “How’s Lancelot?”

Arthur paused a moment before answering, pulling back to look Merlin in the eye. “Still in the medical bay with concussion.” He smiled slightly, expression playful and coy, white teeth flashing in the dim light. “Gwen’s taking good care of him.”

Merlin laughed. “I bet she is.” He met Arthur’s eyes for one brief moment, and blushed, quickly clearing his throat. “And what about Tristan?”

Arthur's face hardened, his previous teasing edge vanishing in the blink of an eye. He let out a long sigh and shrugged, jaw snapping audibly. “He’s been transferred to another wing of the prison,” he replied, unable to prevent a hint of smugness and satisifaction from creeping into his voice. “That wasn’t just a normal prison fight. He had a weapon. And it’s not the first time he’s attacked Lancelot. He’s going to be charged.”

Merlin let out a sharp gasp of relief, the knots in his stomach lightening significantly. They’d done it; Nimueh had been arrested and Tristan contained. It was finally over.

“So, that’s it then?” he asked, almost unable to believe it.

“That’s it.” Arthur nodded, giving Merlin a small genuine smile. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, glancing briefly down at the floor. “But there’s still the matter of us,” he said, looking up at his cellmate from under long fair lashes. “You said I had to decide.”

Merlin took in a breath, body frozen, although his heart was beating erratically in his chest. “And have you?”

“What do you think?” Arthur asked. But before Merlin could make any sort of reply, he leaned forwards, capturing his lips in a small soft kiss.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked, just as they drew apart.

The blond rolled his eyes, looking fondly exasperated. “Merlin, yesterday you put yourself in danger to try and save me,” he admitted, sounding faintly amazed. “Nobody has cared that much about me before. I don’t want that to change.”

“It wont,” Merlin stated, with complete and utter conviction.

“Good,” Arthur smiled, grasping Merlin’s hand and tugging him onto his bed. “Because I feel exactly same way about you.”

***

To be continued…

***

A/N That was a bit of an evil place to end it, right before the sexy-times, but I will be starting off where this chapter ends in the next part. So don’t worry, I WILL NOT SKIP THE PORN! And now that all the plotty stuff is mostly out of the way, the next chapter will be focused solely on Arthur/Merlin fluff and sexy-times! You know, the important stuff.

But OMG this chapter kicked my ass. I’m not very good with fighting scenes and I was literally pulling my hair out by the end, so I hope it came out OK. *nervous smile* To be honest, I am just relieved that this chapter is finally over, it was an absolute bitch to write.

As always, I'll update the Cellmate Masterlist with updates on updates XD One chapter to go, one chapter to go! And it's really just an epilogue!

Please comment!