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Deep down Merlin knew it was petty - petty and rather childish - but when he saw Arthur Pendragon sprinting down the corridor towards him, something made him turn to the panel and stab the close doors button repeatedly.
Arthur – ever the super fit athlete - slammed against the closing doors just in time, wrenched them open again and stepped inside with a thunderous look on his face.
“Well, thanks a bunch, mate, too kind.” The prat wasn’t even out of breath.
“Well, excuse me, your highness,” Merlin said, raising his chin defiantly, “I really didn’t think you wanted to share a lift with the likes of me.”
The blond man threw him a withering look, hit the button for the ground floor with his fist and turned his back on him.
As the old metal box shuddered to life and began its slow descent, Merlin stared at the broad, cotton clad shoulders morosely. Just his luck having to share a confined space with Arthur Pendragon when he had managed to turn avoiding the prat into a fine art these past three months. Just his luck that even the prat’s back was gorgeous.
The truth was it still hurt, it still stung and made Merlin cringe a little to think of that unfortunate night when Arthur Pendragon had flirted with him.
Arthur bloody Pendragon with his golden hair, deep blue eyes and perfect, perfect arse.
They had run into each other at a pub close to campus. Gwen was celebrating her birthday and Arthur and his football mates were downing hard-earnt pints after their latest victorious match.
Waiting for their drinks at the bar they started to talk and some time later they were sitting by themselves chatting, laughing and flirting. Definitely flirting. Merlin could still recall those blinding smiles and that cheeky twinkle in Arthur’s eyes.
He had seen him around at uni. He was hard to overlook with his football god looks and the throng of aspiring groupies that usually followed in his wake but this was the first time that he had an actual conversation with Arthur Pendragon who turned out to be witty, smart and a good listener. This was the first time Merlin noticed how beautiful his hands were and how much he liked his voice.
When Arthur threw back his head laughing so hard that his shoulders shook, it took all his willpower not to just grab the man and snog him senseless. The sound and sight of Arthur Pendragon’s belly laugh left him breathless.
Without thinking he leaned in and put a hand on the other man’s knee. Before he could even ask if Arthur felt like going out for a coffee with him some time the blond man stiffened, knocked his hand away so forcefully it hurt and hissed: “What the fuck are you doing? Take your hands off me, you creep! What are you taking me for?”
And with that he jumped off his barstool, turned on his heel and marched away without another word.
Merlin was so shocked that he could only stare after him wide-eyed and open-mouthed while his whole face started to flush and tingle. He fled the pub without even saying good-bye to Gwen.
On his way home he blinked back tears trying to make sense of what had just happened.
What the fuck? What the actual fuck? He knew he hadn’t misread any signals. There was no mistaking the way Arthur had smiled at him, looked at him with something close to hunger in his eyes. Merlin hadn’t felt so humiliated, so rejected, in a long time. What upset him the most was the fact that this gorgeous man with the sexy laughter lines and the wonderfully crooked teeth had turned out to be such a prick.
Freaking out over a male hand on his knee? When he was a football captain and probably hugged and humped the living daylights out of his whole team after every sodding goal?
Merlin didn’t get it. His wrist hurt, his ego hurt, and he never ever wanted to speak to that prat again. He would make sure of it.
And he had.
And now he was trapped inside a small metal box with said prat absolutely hating the fact that the mere presence of Arthur bloody Pendragon still made his heart beat faster and his breathing shallow.
His unhappy brooding was cut off effectively when the old lift gave a sudden lurch and stopped dead between the 4th and the 3rd floor.
Losing his balance he fell against Arthur who had managed to steady himself just in time and stood like a rock. Snatching his hands back from warm, hard muscles Merlin cursed loudly while Arthur gave an exasperated groan, turned around and hit the alarm button several times.
They both stared at the panel expectantly and, when nothing happened, the silence between them grew thick and oppressing. The red button refused to light up, the bell didn’t ring and no tinny voice came out of the loudspeaker holes.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, how old is this thing?” Arthur thumped the alarm button impatiently. Merlin, who had started to feel uncomfortably hot, pulled at the collar of his shirt and rolled his eyes. “It’s from 1952. Like the rest of the library. There’s a plaque at the entrance.”
That earned him another withering look.
“Fantastic.” the blond man said. “No wonder there isn’t a phone; why the hell is nobody reacting? I bet the alarm doesn’t even work.” He banged his whole fist against the panel and a strange ringing started in Merlin’s ears. Stop it, you bloody Neanderthal, he wanted to shout, you’re probably breaking it completely, but funnily enough he found he couldn’t speak.
His throat felt constricted and he was suddenly rather dizzy. Which was strange. Unless - he looked up at the ceiling - unless they were already running out of oxygen. It was a pretty small lift after all. And a pretty old one.
Tugging at his collar again he leaned his shoulder against the metal wall. His knees wobbled.
Arthur was cursing again but his voice came from far away, as if they were under water. Where you couldn’t breathe. Without gills.
Looking around slightly panicked he pressed both hands to the cold metal in order not to fall over.
“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice drifted past. “You okay?”
He shook his head slowly in the hope it would stop the bloody ringing in his ears.
“Merlin!” A warm hand squeezed his shoulder and shook him. “Stop breathing so hard! You’re making me nervous.”
Somehow he managed to shove the prat away before he gracelessly slid down the wall and landed on the floor on his hands and knees.
“What the hell are you doing? What’s wrong?”
Arthur grabbed at him again and Merlin stubbornly tried to crawl away on all fours. He couldn’t breathe, the walls were closing in, dark spots were dancing before his eyes but he would not let Arthur Pendragon humiliate him again. He just wouldn’t.
Pressing himself into a corner he sagged against the grimy wall desperately trying to gulp in air. The prat was kneeling behind him softly swearing under his breath.
“You’re claustrophobic, aren’t you? You’re a bloody claustrophobe. What kind of idiot takes the lift when they’re fucking claustrophobic?”
“I was on the 12th floor, you prat,” Merlin managed to croak. “I’m okay using the lift for a short ride.”
“Yeah, I can see that. You’re clearly okay.”
And then Arthur grabbed him, manhandled him around and held his wrists in a death grip.
Merlin struggled weakly. “Take your hands off me!” he whispered.
“No, I won’t. Shut up and listen to me! Look at me, goddammit!”
He squeezed so hard that the sheer pain made Merlin look up and meet impossibly blue eyes.
“Stop breathing so hard! You’re hyperventilating; you need to slow down!”
Merlin shook his head trying to convey that there wasn’t any air left, that he was already suffocating. Leaning even closer Arthur took his face in his hands. He shook Merlin’s head gently.
“Everything’s fine, mate, you’re fine; you’re just having a panic attack; you just need to slow down your breathing, okay?”
He rubbed his thumbs along Merlin’s cheekbones. “Merlin, calm down! Look at me! Good…now breathe with me…slowly, mate…in…out…in…out…”
Staring at his pursed lips he watched Arthur inhale and exhale and felt his breath on the flushed skin of his face.
He had no idea how long they stayed like that, him sitting on his bum with Arthur kneeling between his legs cradling his face and murmuring to him.
He vaguely felt the warm hands move to his shoulders shaking him again. The ringing in his ears had grown so loud now that he couldn’t hear Arthur’s voice anymore which for some reason panicked him even more.
Out. He needed to get out. Now.
Kicking blindly, his arms flailing, he tried to scramble up and throw himself against the doors. When Arthur grabbed his ankles he started to scream.
“No, no, no, let me go, let me go, the walls…”
It was no use. He was wrestled to the ground and ended up sitting between Arthur’s legs with his back pressed against the other man’s chest. Arthur had wrapped his arms around him in a vice-like grip. Giving up he went limp and felt the strong arms relax their hold on him just a tad.
Suddenly Arthur’s voice was in his ear, loud and clear. “What’s wrong with the walls, Merlin? What’s wrong with them?”
“Moving…” he managed to pant, “closing in…” His chest hurt and his fingers felt numb. Somehow he couldn’t move them anymore.
Arthur wriggled behind him, pulled him up a little more and rested one hand on his stomach and the other on his heaving chest.
“I swear, Merlin, the walls aren’t closing in on us; it’s just the panic making you feel like they are, okay? Close your eyes mate! Don’t look at the bloody walls!”
And Merlin obeyed. There was something in Arthur’s voice that commanded him.
“I promise you’re gonna be fine; I’ll call my mate Leon; he’ll get us out of here in no time. Trust me, okay?”
And Merlin did. Maybe it was complete and utter exhaustion setting in; maybe it was the warmth and solidity of Arthur’s body that engulfed him, held him and made him feel safe.
With Arthur’s broad chest softly rising and falling against his back he finally managed to slow his breathing. With Arthur’s hands rubbing soothing circles into his chest and his belly he managed to match his breathing to the other man’s.
“That’s it, Merlin,” the voice came again. “Perfect, nice and slow, you’re doing great.”
Warm lips were moving against the shell of his ear and Arthur’s breath was a soft, steady caress on his neck. Slowly, ever so slowly, Merlin started to relax.
When the ringing in his ears subsided and his claw-like hands unfurled Merlin sagged against the other man in relief letting his head fall back on his shoulder.
A warm cheek pressed against his own and the arms around him tightened for a second. “Better?” Arthur murmured.
“Yeah…” Merlin breathed keeping his eyes closed revelling in the sensation of finally getting enough air into his lungs.
Deep down he knew he should feel embarrassed, mortified, humiliated even but he simply couldn’t muster up the energy. Not with Arthur still holding him like this, making no move to throw him off and get away from the creep.
As confusing as it was at this very moment Merlin was just grateful for the gentle, comforting hands that anchored him and for Arthur’s content humming that almost lulled him to sleep.
“Gonna call my mate now, okay?” Arthur murmured in his ear.
Nodding Merlin made to get up but Arthur wrapped one arm around his waist, firmly held him in place and just leaned to one side to pull his backpack close.
Some twenty minutes later the cabin gave another small lurch, started to move and stopped again on the 3rd floor. The doors slid open and a young, tall man with reddish curls leaned in grinning down on them. “Good God, Pendragon,” he exclaimed shaking his head theatrically. “Trapping them in lifts now? We really must work on your dating skills.”
Gaping up into a pair of twinkling blue eyes Merlin felt the chest he was still pressed against shake and rumble. “Oh shut it, Leon! Help him up, will you? He’s had a full blown panic attack.”
Strong hands pulled him up and steadied him when he swayed on his feet.
Nodding at the caretaker who was standing next to the ginger giant Merlin mumbled his thanks and made his way to the stairs on rubbery legs.
“And where do you think you' re going?”
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder pulling him around.
“Home?” Merlin said blinking into Arthur’s stern face.
“No way, not on your own, I’m taking you.”
“What?” Merlin squeaked, “No! There’s really no need…”
Resistance turned out to be futile. The blond man just grabbed him by the nape of his neck, steered him down three flights of stairs, frog-marched him across the parking-lot and pushed him into a posh looking car. Of course he didn’t just drop Merlin off but insisted on coming up taking over Merlin’s tiny kitchen the moment they entered the flat.
“You take a shower! Or lie down! Or…or…just sit! I’ll make you a cuppa.”
Merlin could only sink down on the sofa and watch in a daze while his bossy Samaritan filled the kettle and rooted around for mugs and tea bags.
Pressing the cure for all ills into his hand Arthur sat down next to him. The tea was a little too sweet and a bit too milky for his liking but it was hot and reviving and it gave Merlin the courage to take a deep breath and turn to the other man.
“Look, Arthur, don’t take this the wrong way; I really appreciate what you did for me today. I don’t get it but I appreciate it. But I’d rather you go now.”
“Oh,” Arthur said not quite succeeding in keeping his face blank, “you’re kicking me out?”
Merlin put his mug down. “Well, not that this bossy mother hen side of you isn’t totally intriguing but unlike you I still remember that unfortunate night three months ago and I find all this rather embarrassing.” He waved his hand around in an all-encompassing gesture.
To his utter fascination Arthur Pendragon blushed to his roots and winced as if he’d been slapped. Dropping his head he scrubbed his hands over his face and ran his fingers through his hair until it stood up at wild angles. “I’m sorry,” he said looking up again. “I’m really sorry, Merlin; I know I’ve been a total dick back then and I should have apologised ages ago and I wanted to but you’ve been avoiding me like the plague and I’ve…I’ve just…”
Faltering he scooted even closer, put a hand on Merlin’s bare arm and squeezed.
“The truth is I wasn’t out back then and for a second there I thought you were going to kiss me, in the middle of the pub, and all my football mates were there, and I just…fuck I panicked.”
Merlin dazedly studied his face which was still a dark shade of pink and very close while his skin broke out in goose bumps beneath Arthur’s warm fingers.
“Are you trying to tell me you’re out now?” he croaked.
“I’m trying to tell you that I fancy you something rotten, jug-ears and all.”
Merlin blinked several times. “If you actually think insulting my ears will get you anywhere…”
He was rudely cut off by Arthur’s mouth that landed on his own, hot, eager and much more eloquent than any of his words. Merlin found himself kissing back with all he got losing himself in the sensation of Arthur’s soft lips and warm, urgent hands that slipped under his shirt and started exploring.
He groaned when Arthur’s tongue slipped into his mouth, tangled his fingers in silky, blond hair and held on for dear life. He vaguely registered that he was being pushed backwards and seconds later he was lying flat on his back with Arthur on top of him hungrily kissing and sucking a trail up his neck.
“Merlin…” Arthur moaned in his ear before he gently bit down on the lobe.
Maybe, Merlin thought when Arthur's hot, wet tongue slipped inside making his eyes roll back in his head, maybe he would forgive the prat.