Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur
Genre: Modern AU, Prison AU, Drama, Romance, Humour
Warnings: SLASH, sex, language
Summary: Merlin Emrys is dead. No, really. He just called the most powerful prisoner in jail a prat. A prat who just happens to be cellmates with. Cue fireworks.
A/N Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, I hope you enjoy this one! The story is already completely written, so I should be quite frequent with updates, but I do need to check/edit the chapters before I upload, and it takes longer than I first thought. And in reply to Annabelle Leigh, there is a reason I haven't revealed Merlin's crime yet (at least completely) because it will be a big part of the story later :)
Cellmate
A Battle of Wills (2/14)
"So, what happens now?" Merlin asked, devouring the last of his porridge and hovering awkwardly, as Will climbed to his feet.
As someone who had never been to jail before - not even to visit - Merlin was at a loss over what to do and where he was supposed to be. He dimly recalled Morgana reciting his schedule to him the day before, but he'd been too busy having a mental breakdown to really take note. He was very much relying on Will to be a kind, decent person and tell him where the hell he had to go.
"We shower," Will replied, gesturing for his new friend to follow, whether out of pity or genuine kindness, Merlin wasn't sure.
"Together?" he croaked, eyes widening.
Will laughed but said nothing, evidently deciding that Merlin's question was not worthy of an actual reply.
They weaved around the cafeteria's tables and through the throng of prisoners, heading towards what Merlin supposed was the prisoners bathroom.
Arthur, who still sat closely to Lancelot, followed Merlin's movements as he passed. He wore the same calculating expression as the night before, as though he was not sure what to make of his new fumbling cellmate - his gaze sharp and unblinking.
"Arthur's staring at you," Will realised, giving Merlin a subtle elbow to the ribs as they walked.
"I know," he hissed back, determinedly looking away from Arthur's suspicious gaze. He didn't know whether the blond would actually hurt him for staring too long, but it was a theory he really didn't want to test out. It was best to just avoid the man's stare altogether.
"Blimey, he doesn't look happy," his friend remarked, raising his eyebrows.
Merlin groaned. "Does he ever?"
"What did you do to him?"
"What?" Merlin cried, slightly affronted, because did Will honestly think he was capable of something untoward? Especially to Arthur. He had some common sense, dammit. He didn't go around trying to make potential murderers mad at him. "I didn't do anything!"
"Really?" Will asked, looking surprised. He led the both of them down a corridor off the side of the kitchen, where the guards parted to allow them access. "It's just…to be fair to Arthur, he doesn't usually start things with people. He only gets nasty if people threaten him first."
Merlin was quite disgruntled to hear this, as the blond had been more than willing to pick a fight with him the night before. Maybe he was just unintentionally irritating person. Or maybe Arthur just sensed weakness, and had simply went straight in for the kill.
"Don't worry," Will continued, in a rather blase tone,"It'll blow over soon." He shrugged his shoulders, unapparently not all that concerned for Merlin's welfare, and added, "You'll shag, your frustrations will be released, and then you'll get along just fine."
Merlin let out a very undignified squawk that echoed down the corridors, and turned to his friend with wide, round eyes. What? Just what? Did Will have some sort of mental affliction? That didn't even make any sense!
"Why will we shag?" Merlin cried, surprising himself with how high pitched his voice sounded.
Will rolled his eyes, giving a jaunty wave to a fellow prisoner walking in the opposite direction, and replied, as though it was obvious, "Arthur always shags the newbies." He gave Merlin what was probably supposed to be a comforting pat on the back. "Otherwise he'd run out of meat."
Unable to do anything but mouth wordlessly, Merlin was supremely glad they'd reached the showers, where a small group of prisoners were waiting outside. They watched Will and Merlin's approach with curious eyes, faces sneering as they surveyed the new arrivals.
"I'm - not…will not…shag Arthur," Merlin breathed, knowing that his face and neck - and probably even his ears - were flaming with embarrassment.
"Course you will," Will said cheerfully, joining the queue outside the bathroom. "Everyone does."
"Will not," Merlin insisted, realising that he sounded like a stubborn child but unable to stop himself. The whole idea was nothing but preposterous. Despite Arthur's attractiveness, Merlin would never allow himself to get involved with someone who was - for all intents and purposes - a criminal. He highly doubted that Arthur was in prison for a simple misunderstanding (like himself), and as long as that remained the case, Merlin could never see anything happening with them - even if Arthur wanted something to. Which of course, he didn't.
Will was probably just exaggerating.
"Arthur can be very persuasive," his new friend continued, evidently oblivious to the other's panic.
Merlin could agree with that, at least. If Arthur was interested in him - which he wasn't! - he very much doubted that Arthur's methods of persuasion/seduction involved candle-lit dinners and a soapy bubble baths. They were more likely to include death threats and physical injury, a thought that made Merlin's heart stutter slightly in fear. He really hoped that wouldn't be the case, but what if Will was right? What if Arthur wanted to sample the new 'meat'?
He groaned, and looked to his friend for support. "So, what do I do?" he croaked, just in case the situation did ever arise. It was always best to be prepared, after all.
"What do mean?" Will questioned, shrugging his shoulders and giving Merlin a look, as though he thought he was a little bit simple. "You give him a hand job and get it over with."
Merlin's mouth dropped open. They were not the sympathetic words of advice he had been expecting.
"Oh, don't look so horrified - it's not that bad," Will grinned, evidently amused by Merlin's internal flailing. "It can be a pleasure, in fact. Arthur's a good-looking guy."
Trying not to think too much about the meaning behind Will's words, Merlin merely threw him a filthy look, just as the prisoners began to file into the showers. The queue was long now, stretching out behind them, and Merlin suddenly found himself feeling even more terrified and on edge than before. Surely Will had been joking when he said they showered together? That was honestly the last thing he needed.
"About the whole showering thing…." he began, eyes darting anxiously to the people crowding around them, taking in the muscled arms and the unfamiliar faces.
"Yeah?" Will prompted, eyebrows creasing in confusion.
Merlin flushed and wrung his hands, lowering his voice, and muttering, "You don't actually mean together, do you?"
"Um, yeah. Communal showers," Will explained.
Merlin's stomach dropped through the floor. Just when he thought he couldn't get anymore uncomfortable with prison life, he had to get wet and naked with a load of dangerous - and potentially sociopathic - strangers. He was vulnerable enough already, with his flailing limbs and his habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time - he hardly needed stripping in front of a load of people he'd never met before to make him feel even more unnerved.
"I don't - I'm all pale and skinny," he spluttered, attempting to explain himself. "And you know, there are murderers around. They're going to take one look at me and realise they can crush me with their fingers."
Will raised his eyebrows, and gave Merlin a judgemental once over. "Well, pale and skinny is better than hairy and fat, like a few others I could mention," he replied. "Besides, they already know they can crush you with their fingers, Merlin - it's sort of obvious. Being naked isn't going to make a difference."
Merlin could do nothing but make a small strangled sound, hardly comforted by his new friend's words. But before he could even contemplate escape, he was ushered forwards, jolted by the prisoners behind him. The guards filed them in, looking them up and down as they passed.
They arrived in a cloakroom area where clothes were scattered across various surfaces. Some prisoners were shuffling out of their trousers, while others were shuffling back into them, flushed and damp from their showers.
Thrown by the blatant nakedness of everyone in the room, Merlin stumbled backwards, dithering between staying rooted to the spot and scrambling towards the exit. Before he could do either, however, he collided with somebody behind him and jumped, face flushing an embarassing shade of purple.
"Sorry!" he cried, turning to the person behind and holding up his hands in a gesture of defense.
He needn't have bothered, however. The stranger was small and slender, with dark floppy hair shadowing bright, blue eyes. And despite Merlin's fumbling apology, he made no move to reply, his face remaining strangely smooth and impassive - although his eyes were shifting, dancing over each slope of Merlin's face.
"Sorry," Merlin repeated, in case the man hadn't heard.
Again the stranger said nothing, and continued regarding Merlin with his cool, piercing gaze.
Beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Merlin twitched, desperately attempting to find something clever or intimidating to say. But his mind came up blank, as it usually did in times of importance, and so he mouthed uselessly instead, feeling his flush descend swiftly down his neck in mortification.
Before he could embarrass himself further, however, Will took pity and decided to intervene, grabbing his arm and leading him away, like Merlin was a small child misbehaving himself.
"You're a bit of a car crash, aren't you?" he remarked, shaking his head and tugging him into a corner - away from general people.
Merlin spluttered, slightly resenting the assumption, considering his new friend had only met him a couple of hours before. He could just be having a bad day! Which he most definitely was.
"Let's just shower, shall we?" Will continued, pulling off his shirt and shaking his head. "Preferably without incident."
Unable to do anything but comply, Merlin began undressing himself, eyes flickering uneasily to the prisoners around him. It was as though he could feel a their gazes burning his skin, but whenever he turned to check, he saw nothing.
"Towel," Will said, throwing him a small, white cloth.
He eyed it for a moment in utter distaste, before realizing that the towel would probably be the only thing standing between him and a load of big, burly, and naked men. Wrapping it tightly around his waist, he shimmied out of his trousers, causing Will to smirk slightly in amusement.
"Not funny," he hissed, pulling off his shirt and folding his arms across his chest.
"It really is," Will replied, already completely naked, and apparently ok with it. "You look so uncomfortable."
"Funny that," Merlin said sarcastically, gulping and turning his head away. But soon realising that everyone else in the room was naked as well, he shook his head in horror, and chose to glare determinedly at the floor. It was reminding him far too much of prison programs he used to watch on TV, the prospect of which was terrifying, considering it was people like him that always ended up as the prison bitch. He was far too sensitive for places like this.
"Do you want me to lead you into the shower?" Will asked, barely able to conceal the amusement in his voice. "Or do you think you can manage it?"
Merlin scowled and narrowed his eyes, irriated that Will was making him feel even more helpless than he felt already. He wasn't that pathetic. Almost, but not quite.
In a sulking gesture of defiance, he turned and stalked towards the adjoining showers, throwing a "I'm just fine, thanks," to Will behind him.
He was hit by a blast of steam and winced, scrambling to the nearest showerhead. He could see the blurry figures of the prisoners around him, but nothing specific, to which he silently thanked God, because honestly, if he saw some of this men naked, it would be ingrained in his mind forever. He'd never be able to get it up again.
Turning the water on with a quick flick of his wrist, he gave the area a swift surveying glance, checking nobody was in the nearby vicinity. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he removed his towel with clumsy fingers, fumbling for an embarassingly long time with the material.
He dived under the steady stream of water and washed his hair as quickly as posssible, eager for the experience to be over. He felt exposed - which of course he was - paranoid, and flustered, as though he expected someone to come up behind him, their hands too close and too friendly, or even worse, threatening. He'd seen prison movies - he knew what went down!
It was only when he had almost finished rinsing his hair that Will caught up with him, claiming the shower directly next to his own.
"Seriously, go faster," Will laughed, lolling his head under the water lazily, almost mocking.
Merlin flushed but did not answer, unable to look his friend in the eye. He gave an uneasy glance to the shower on his other side, which was now occupied by a tall muscled prisoner, washing his back with shower gel.
Growing steadily red with embarrassment, Merlin turned away, but not before spotting a small dark tattoo on the man's left shoulder. It was black and made up of three separate swirls, entwined in the centre.
Eyebrows creased in confusion, Merlin thought back to the cloakroom, where he could of sworn he saw the same tattoo on at least two other men, undressing for their showers. (Not that he'd been perving or anything, but there hadn't been anywhere else to look!) He had barely registered it, thinking it little more than coincidence, but now he was curious. Why would three different men have the same tattoo?
He leaned slightly towards Will, and asked through the corner of his mouth, "What are they?" His eyes flicked discretely to the black ink marked on the stranger's body. "Those tattoos?"
Will followed his gaze, shaking water out of his dripping hair, and squinted in a way that was embarassingly tactless. "Oh. That's the mark of the druids," he explained, clicking his tongue and turning away again.
"What are druids?" Merlin asked, eyes wide, unable to mask his confusion. He had a funny feeling that it was something he should know.
"A gang."
"A gang?" Merlin repeated, his voice rising an octave. His mind immediately flashed to The Godfather, and although he hadn't seen the movie in a very long time, he was fairly sure that an awful lot of people got their brains blown out. "Like the mafia?"
"I suppose," Will replied, shrugging his shoulders and rinsing his hair under the water, like he was having a nice day out at the beach, and not in fact showering with a load of gang members.
Merlin blinked, thrown by his friend's casualness, and cast a frightened eye around the room. Just the thought of sharing a shower with members of a murderous gang made him feel slightly ill. He moved closer to Will in his unease, unable to help himself, and almost submerged his head under his friend's shower, rather than his own.
Catching onto his discomfort, Will made an exasperated tutting noise in Merlin's ear, causing him to realise just how close they'd become. He jumped back, blushing furiously, and attempted not to look at Will's naked body, something that would manage to make them both even more uncomfortable.
But his companion merely laughed good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. "What exactly were you expecting when you came here, Merlin?" he asked, looking completely bemused. "Of course there are gangs. Nobody ended up here by being good, upstanding members of society."
"I know," Merlin replied faintly, eyes darting around the room in horror. "But it's hard actually having it confirmed. Like just realising that the nightmare is real."
Will shrugged, and said, "Hate to say it, but you're going to have to get used to it."
Merlin nodded vigorously, turning off his shower and grabbing his towel. He was feeling trapped, caustrophobic, and panicked, like the walls were closing in on him, and he couldn't escape. He inhaled a lungful of air, attempting to regain control of himself, and almost choked on the steam, his eyes watering. Giving Will a hasty goodbye, he bolted from the room, and practically dived into the cloakroom - letting out a gasp of relief at the cool, fresh air.
But his happiness lasted for only a moment, because in his haste he collided with somebody heading in the other direction, their body hard and unmoving, causing Merlin to stumble backwards in surprise. He might as well have run into a brick wall.
"Sorry," he squeaked instinctively, before his blurry vision focused on a very blond head.
"Why am I not surprised?" Arthur muttered, looking more amused than angry. He cocked an eyebrow and gave wet half-naked Merlin an appraising glance, lips curling. "It's you."
"Yep, I'm me," Merlin stuttered, eyes having found the broad expanse of Arthur's naked chest. It was muscled and faintly tanned, soft blond hair forming a 'V' towards the small white towel wrapped around his waist. His skin was smooth and unblemished, something Merlin was pleased to note, as there was no druid tattoo in sight. He suddenly felt very relieved.
"When you've stopped staring, do you want to move?" the blond said a moment later, snapping Merlin out of his reverie.
"Urm…" he began, brain attempting to process Arthur's words. "Yes."
They both stood staring at each other in silence for at least a minute, with Arthur's eyebrows travelling steadily up his forehead.
"Well, move then!" he finally snapped, expression incredulous, like he could barely believe Merlin's nerve.
"Oh!" Merlin cried, blinking rapidly. "Of course. Sorry!"
Blushing furiously, he shuffled to the side, and allowed Arthur to move past him. The blond gave him a disgusted look, bumping his shoulder into Merlin's side as he passed and causing him to stumble backwards with the force of it.
"Hey!" he yelped, trying to regain his balance. He turned to glare at Arthur's retreating head and scowled, wishing he couldn't feel tingles where the blond had touched him.
Shaking his head and letting out a sigh, he darted back towards his clothes, relieved to be pulling them back on. Feeling a great deal less exposed and helpless, he fled the cloakroom, silently dreading what else the day had to hold.
After the showers, prisoners were required to do various jobs, which usually earned them a certain amount of money. Although the pay wasn't great, Merlin was happy to have something to do and completed the jobs willingly, following Will to his activities throughout the day, grateful for the distraction.
Although the jobs were mostly tedious, Will's company made the work somewhat bearable, keeping him entertained for the majority of the their time there. Merlin was happy to be bonding with someone, and he liked Will - who was funny, and bright, and maybe a little bit crazy. He told Merlin stories of his numerous crimes with great enthusiasm, some slightly worrying and others downright ridiculous, seemingly appreciative of his new captive audience.
"I think my favourite has to be my Bookie's theft," Will said during workshop, waving around a rather sharp looking hacksaw with worrying flourish. "I didn't really think the whole thing through."
"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, attempting to hammer a nail into a wooden block and almost whacking his finger off; he'd kind of been hoping that he'd have some miraculous workshop skills that had materialised overnight, but it appeared he was just as hopeless as he'd always been. He was more of a book person - he'd never been one for manual labour.
"Well, I was running a bit late and all the money had already gone," Will explained, giving his own wooden block a rather violent whack. "They only had bags of coins left."
Merlin snorted, body shaking, unable to hold back his laughter. He knew that he probably shouldn't antagonise his only friend - especially one who happened to be wielding a hacksaw - but he just couldn't stop himself. The mental image of Will carrying bags of coins out of a Bookies was enough to send him into peels of laughter.
"It's not funny!" Will cried, although he sounded amused rather than insulted. "I still got arrested for holding someone at gunpoint, even though I didn't manage to steal any actual money."
Merlin's laughter died in his throat. He choked slightly, face falling, and yelped, "You held people at gunpoint?"
"Not with a real gun," Will laughed, rolling his eyes and giving his shoulders a careless shrug. "But apparently threatening people - even with a water-pistol - is still highly frowned upon."
Suddenly feeling achingly relieved, Merlin raised his eyebrows, and said sarcastically, "I wonder why?"
His companion beamed. "Blimey, you must be adjusting to prison life. You're starting to get cheeky with me."
Merlin smiled, but realized Will's words rang true. He already felt relaxed in the company of his new friend, which considering the unfamiliarity of prison life in general, was quite an achievement. It made him glad that Will had initially approached him.
He only wished that his other relationships were developing just as well - his relationship with his cellmate in particular. Things between he and Arthur were still awkward and strained, and after Will's previous words, he found himself terrified at the prospect of being alone with him.
And so after returning to his room after the workshop, he hovered awkwardly outside his own cell door, embarrassingly nervous about entering. He hadn't seen Arthur since the showers early in the morning - something which he was incredibly grateful for - but Will's earlier revelation was still ringing in his ears, loud and insistent. What if Arthur did want to have his wicked way with him? Could he even say no? He didn't think the blond would take kindly to being refused, and honestly, it was a theory Merlin did really not want to test out.
Maybe if he just got it over with - on his own terms - and then he wouldn't have to worry anymore. Not about Arthur, at least. He could move on and forget the whole thing had even happened.
With that thought in mind, he took a deep breath to steel himself, and entered the shared cell, just in time to see Arthur buttoning up his shirt.
Merlin gulped in a lungful of air and breezed past him, moving towards their bunk-bed, the shameless nakedness still unnerving to him. He determinedly didn't look at the thin strip of Arthur's chest, sculpted and dusted with faint blond hair.
"Hi," he muttered, climbing the ladder, and attempting to sound casual.
Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned to regard him with a searching look. "Hello," he replied warily, as though trying to figure out why Merlin was being so nice to him.
Blushing under the intensity of the other man's gaze, Merlin waited - his chest beating frantically in his chest - tracking Arthur's every move, and searching for the slightest sign of a come on. So he could flee the room or...something. He didn't even know.
But the blond did nothing, merely assessing his cellmate for a moment longer before climbing into his own bed and disappearing under the covers.
Merlin blinked, thrown by the blatant dismissal, and complete disinterest. It's not like he wanted something to happen between them, because Arthur could still be a murderer after all, but he was starting to feel a little bit baffled. Arthur was supposed to be interested in everyone (well, according to Will), and yet he'd never looked at Merlin with any sign of lust or interest - just confusion. The dark-haired man wasn't sure whether to be relieved or offended, but considering Arthur had slept with every other person in the prison, he was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him.
Did Arthur often ignore his conquests for the first few days, determined to lure them into a false sense of security? Or was he just enjoying watching Merlin squirm?
Collapsing down on his own bed and staring at the ceiling, Merlin contemplated the last twenty-four hours with growing distain. It could have been worse, he supposed - he was still alive, after all - but it also could have been so much better.
He tossed and turned, unable to settle, the events of the day swirling through his mind. He was just hoping that prison life would gradually improve.
"So," Will began the next morning, flicking raisins out of his cereal. "What happened last night?"
"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, although he already had a sneaking suspicion where the conversation was going.
"With Arthur…" Will prompted, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly. He dropped his spoon and used his hand to make an obscene gesture, one that Merlin guessed was supposed to signal a hand job.
Trying to appear indifferent, Merlin sighed, and eyed Will's hand with distain. "Nothing happened," he replied, fighting to keep his voice deadpan. "He's not interested."
"Arthur's always interested," Will insisted, causing Merlin's heart to sink, despite himself. Arthur had shown him nothing but confusion and contempt. Why could that be? "But he's not very predictable. He'll strike when you least expect it."
Merlin's eyes widened and he choked, suddenly having lost his appetite.
He left breakfast and headed to work with Will's words still churning in his mind. The whole situation made him feel very uneasy, like Arthur was waiting - plotting - for the perfect time to strike. It made no sense, even to Merlin, but the feeling was there, against all logic and common sense. He knew he was getting paranoid, and that realistically Arthur probably had much better things to do with his time than mess around with Merlin's head, but he couldn't help it. Try as he might, he just could not shake off the feeling his was about to be attacked, even during workshop, where he gripped his tools so hard his knuckles had turned a painful white. He just figured that if he was ambushed, at least he would have a suitable weapon (a Cold Chisel) to beat the blond off with.
He spent the whole day in the same constant worry, on increasingly high alert, as though waiting for Arthur to jump out from behind a wall. He knew his behaviour was ridiculous, bordering on insane, but he could not stop Will's voice ringing repeatedly through his mind.
He was growing so paranoid he was beginning to imagine people following him, especially after he happened to run into one very blue-eyed man twice in three hours. He kept looking over his shoulder, eying everyone that passed him, and jumping a mile at the slightest sound.
Merlin blamed Will. If he had just kept his gob shut, Merlin would still be living in complete ignorance, happy (well, as happy as he could get in this place) and oblivious.
Despite his reluctance, however, a rather large part of him just wanted to get the whole thing over with - just not on Arthur's terms. If it was going to happen, if he had no other choice, then he wanted to have some semblance of control. He wanted to be ready, and he didn't want the blond to catch him off guard.
As the day went on, Merlin turned similar thoughts around in his head, gradually working himself into a panic. By the time he returned to their cell in the evening, he was rather close to storming straight in and blurting everything out, regardless of what would no doubt be very painful consequences.
But instead, he chose to stroll in calmly, attempting to disguise his inner turmoil behind a cool and collected exterior.
Whether he succeeded or not was to be debated, as the blond gave him a suspicious glance upon his entrance, but said nothing.
Merlin hesitated by the edge of the bed, eager to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence, and said, "So…"
Arthur turned to look at him expectantly, eyebrow raised, evidently waiting for him to continue.
"How are you?" he blurted after a pause, unable to think of anything remotely more intelligent to say.
The blond blinked, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. Golden hair flopped forwards and shadowed his eyes, preventing Merlin from reading anything in the other man's expression.
"What's wrong with you?" Arthur asked sharply, giving his shoulders a helpless shrug. "Are you trying to wind me up?"
"No!" Merlin cried, eyes round with surprise. Why on earth would he try to wind Arthur up? He didn't have a death wish. "I'm just being nice!"
The blond only continued to look more baffled, giving his head a small shake. "Why?"
"Because I'm actually a nice person!" Merlin exclaimed, growing increasingly frustrated. Was it so hard to believe that he was actually a decent human being? Did they not exist in prison? He guessed not.
"You're an irritating and idiotic person," Arthur countered, seemingly uncaring that he might be hurting Merlin's feelings. "Do you have no self-preservation skills at all?"
"Yes…" he replied, more instinctively than anything else, although he knew he sounded uncertain now.
"Not from what I've seen. I've only known you a couple of days, and not one minute has gone by without you annoying me," the blond complained, shifting from foot to foot, looking distinctly like he wanted to reach out his hands and wrap them round Merlin's neck. "Either you really are just completely stupid, or you're doing it deliberately."
Merlin gaped, unable to do anything in his own defence except mouth wordlessly. He wasn't doing anything deliberately, and he certainly wasn't stupid! Well, most of the time...
Arthur surveyed his gormless expression with interest, apparently unable to stop his lips curling into an amused smile. "Maybe it is because you're stupid, after all," he muttered, before turning away, back to his bed, and effectively closing the conversation.
Merlin eyes widened further at the insult, but his mind had gone completely blank in surprise.
He watched the blond complete his bedtime routine in a slight daze, stare glazed and unfocused. By the time the cells had shut down and the lights had turned off, he was still sat in the same position, mind attempting to process Arthur's final words.
The next morning Merlin's mood had not improved, even as he spoke to Will and tried to explain the events of the night before.
"He thought you were being stupid on purpose?" his friend laughed, spraying food over the table as he talked.
"Yes!" Merlin cried, throwing a glare towards the blond, who was sat on the other side of the cafeteria, whispering with Lancelot. "And he called me an idiot."
"How horrible of him!" Will exclaimed, although he sounded nothing but amused. He turned to look in Arthur's direction as well, letting out a yelp once he realised the blond was staring straight back. "He's looking at us!"
"No doubt planning my murder," Merlin replied mournfully, stabbing at his plate.
"Or he's so overcome with lust he can't bare to look away from you!" Will waggled his eyebrows, and gave Merlin's shin a playful kick under the table.
"I hardly think so. He said there wasn't a minute I haven't annoyed him."
"Well, you say he's not interested, but he's spent most of breakfast looking at you!" Will cried, waving his bread in the air emphatically.
Merlin glanced over to the blond, who was indeed still staring, eyebrows creased and jaw clenched.
"Um, does that look like a look of lust to you?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows.
Will looked over and frowned, expression growing increasingly confused. He paused for a moment, as though weighing the words on his tongue, before he finally admitted, "No, I guess not."
"Exactly. He looks faintly disgusted," Merlin said miserably, swirling his porridge around his plate and glaring at the table in annoyance.
"Not disgusted. Irritated and confused."
"Yeah, 'cause that's so much better," he replied, glancing up at Arthur through his eyelashes and quickly turning away as the blond smirked in reply. Why did Arthur always catch him when he looked? Did he have super ninja senses? Merlin would not be surprised if he did.
Will watched the exchange with a knowing smile, shaking his head tiredly, and said, "God, there is some serious mind-fuckery going on between you two."
"I don't want mind-fuckery," Merlin exclaimed, the strain of the last few days evidently taking its toll on his sanity. "I want proper fuckery!" Realising what he'd said, and hating himself for it, he then attempted to backtrack, throwing his hands up in the air. "No! No, I don't. I just meant - I want to get it over with! You know - so I can sleep easy again! I didn't mean - I don't like him! He's probably a murderer!"
Will watched him flail for a minute, his face splitting into a grin, before he broke down into peels of laughter. "The sexual frustration is obviously driving you insane and it's only been a couple of days," he said.
"It's not sexual frustration," Merlin argued, face colouring so much it was practically purple. "This is all your fault! It's you putting ideas in my head. All these comments about me and Arthur shagging has left me on edge - like he's going to attack me or something. I now keep waiting for him to make a move, but he's obviously not interested!"
"It is strange," his friend remarked, but seemed to have nothing more to say on the subject. Arthur's behaviour seemed to have baffled him as well, something that Merlin didn't find particularly reassuring.
He shook his head and finished his breakfast, feeling even more confused than before, but realising that there was not much else he could do. He supposed he would just have to wait, and leave the next move up to Arthur.
TBC...
AN Yep, at the moment Merlin is a complete scared-y cat (and feeling pretty conflicted), but tbh, in his position, I'd be crapping my pants as well. He will get stonger as the fic goes on - in fact it will be a big part of it ;)
Takes hours to write and only minutes to review, so please R&R! :)