FIC: Just Next Door (Merlin/Arthur - 3758 - R)

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Title: Just Next Door
Author/Artist: ANON
Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur Pendragon, Percival/Gwaine, Lancelot/Guinevere, Will/Freya
Prompt: Merlin/Arthur - you're the person in the apartment next door who VERY LOUDLY blasts holiday music starting in NOVEMBER and i hate christmas
Word Count/Art Medium: 3758
Rating: R
Contains (Highlight to view): *strong language*
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: (You may put your beta's name/initials here along with any other notes.)
Summary: Arthur's never thought about his neighbor, but he's been thinking about Arthur. An impromptu invitation to his neighbor's Christmas party leaves Arthur happily surprised.



“Shut up!” Arthur pounded on the drywall of his bedroom with both of his fists. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” The neighbor had started with Mariah Carey’s Jingle Bell Rock at six and hadn’t let up with Christmas music since. The digital clock on Arthur’s nightstand blinked a weary 1 am, and Arthur groaned.

It had been a shitty Thanksgiving to start out with.  He’d gotten up at a good hour to watch the Macy’s day parade, but the rest of the day had been filled with fruitless cleaning before collapsing in front of the Wizard of Oz with a plate of take-out Chinese.  

Morgana had ditched him for Leon’s big family again, and the holidays made the recent loss of Uther, their father, even more acute. Granted, Uther had never been one for celebrations of any sort, but it brought into focus just how damn lonely Arthur was.

And how much fun everyone else was having.  

On the other side of the wall, the music burped to a stop, and Arthur sighed.  He sometimes got the feeling he was the apartment building grouch, but it was worth it for the night’s sleep he’d been dreaming of since he woke up that morning. He crawled across his bed and tucked himself under his covers, pulling them up to his ears.

This was always the best part of his day.  

He felt himself drifting, sliding into the abyss, when someone knocked on the front door. Once, twice, three times.  Pulling himself up out of his covers and into the cold air, aware of how shirtless he was, he stumbled through his dark apartment to the door.  “What?” he demanded, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. The soft light of the hallway stung.

“Oh, sorry man.” A hand reached out and touched his shoulder, lightly, before withdrawing. “I was just over to apologize for the music. That was you, right?”

Arthur looked up, ready with a snappy reply, but before he could speak he caught sight of the stranger’s mouth. His lips were bow-shaped and warm, and connected to one of the most shapley faces Arthur had ever seen. His words died in his mouth, and he shook his head mutely.

“Really?” The man exhaled, his shoulders settled in relief.  Arthur noticed then that the man was shirtless too, but with the addition of a cape around his shoulders.  There were snowmen on it.  And snowflakes. It was a fleece blanket.

“Um,” Arthur cleared his throat. “Yeah, really. It must have been the next guy over.” He gestured at the apartment on the other side of him. Really, he’d never talked to any of these people before, in all three years that he’d lived here.


“That sucks.” The stranger made a face, his nose wrinkling adorably. Adorably. Arthur didn’t think he’d ever used that adjective before in his life. His heart clenched inside him painfully. “He was really loud.”

“Yeah,” Arthur nodded, trying to think of new words to say. “He gets like that sometimes.”

The man made another face, wrinkling the side of his cheek. “Sorry you have to live next to him. Anyways, I’m Merlin.”

“Arthur.”

Merlin stuck out his hand, which Arthur took, feeling his pulse jump up into his throat.  “Do you want to come over and hang out with us?” He gestured to his own apartment, the door of which had gained a wreath in the past six hours.

“It’s like, one,” Arthur replied stupidly, still caught up in the texture of Merlin’s hand against his.  

“We’re having a party,” Merlin said, by way of explanation, his hand still in Arthur’s. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“I’m not--” Arthur gestured to his bare torso, and Merlin laughed, finally taking his hand away.

“It’s not like we have a dress code. We’ll just get you a Santa hat!  I would stay away from Gwaine, though,” he continued, walking to his door, “And don’t let him talk you into anything, or else you’ll walk away covered in regret and body paint.”

“Right, I’ll, uh.  Keep that in mind.” Arthur followed Merlin through his front door, lightly touching the plastic of the wreath as he stepped inside.  

“Welcome to Christmas Central!” Merlin said, stepping backwards into his living room and throwing out his arms.  “It’s your North Pole in the mid-latitudes.”

In the corner, someone groaned. A man with shoulders as wide across as Arthur’s coffee table sat stringing popcorn balls onto fishing line.  “You’ve been making that joke since 7, and it’s not getting any funnier.”

Merlin pouted. “You’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it first.” Merlin had a point. The inside of his living room looked like something from a home decorator’s wet dream.  A pine tree already stood in a corner, hung with lights and ornaments. Poinsettias were clustered on end tables, and candles were lit on every free surface.  The radio in the corner was still quietly playing Christmas music, and the smell of cookies wafted in from the kitchen. It was like every Christmas Arthur had ever imagined.

“Everyone,” Merlin said, before the silence could overwhelm them, “This is Arthur, this is everyone! Everyone being Percival,” the man with the shoulders, “Will and Freya,” a couple entwined on an armchair, “and Gwen and Lance, who are on baking duty. Gwaine’s in the shower.”

“Hopefully,” Percival said darkly, not looking up from his popcorn ball.

“So, this is sort of a tradition,” Merlin continued, looking awkward.  He rubbed his knuckles into the palm of his hand, and Arthur wanted to reach out and stop him. He didn’t need to entertain Arthur. This, here, with a beautiful man inside a beautiful house, was the best thing that had happened to him all month.  “We eat Thanksgiving dinner together and then we decorate my house for Christmas.”

“We usually spend Christmas day here anyways,” Will added, pushing hair back from Freya’s face and staring into her eyes. Arthur couldn’t decide if it was romantic or just nauseating.  “Merlin makes the best food, by far.”

“I do!” Merlin jumped, although he was already standing. “Do you want anything? Food, turkey, please--”

“Please, dear God, take turkey.” Freya turned around, her eyes wide in her head, Will forgotten for a moment. “There is so damn much.”

“Um . . . “ Arthur was about to refuse, but he’d forgotten how much he loved turkey and all the traditions that went with it. “I would, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not! Come with me!” Merlin led him into the kitchen, which was decorated in much the same way.  Another couple was cutting Christmas-shaped cookies out of dough, and they greeted Arthur effervescently.

“This is your neighbor?” Gwen said, and it seemed to Arthur that her words carried some sort of weight. He didn’t turn around in time to catch Merlin’s fading blush, but slid another piece of cranberry sauce onto his plate.

“It’s a shame Merlin didn’t meet you sooner,” Lance said significantly. “You could have been spending more time with us.”

Arthur didn’t see Merlin’s middle finger directed at Lance, and smiled widely. “Thanks. You guys are really great. Thank you so much for letting me stay here tonight, and--”

“Arthur, stop!” Merlin hit him lightly on his arm, and Arthur turned in surprise. “Listen, you don’t need to thank us, alright?”

“If surviving one of Merlin’s Christmas parties with us doesn’t make you part of the group, nothing will,” Lance added.  “Do you want more mashed potatoes?”

Gwaine emerged from the bathroom a half an hour later, his face still streaked with red and green paint. “I looked great before they made me go wash it off,” he told Arthur, slouching down next to him on the overstuffed couch.  “Not one inch of my skin was visible.”

“That sounds really impressive.” Arthur took another bite of pumpkin pie, and washed it down with milk. The rate at which he’d accepted Merlin’s space as his own astounded him.  

“It was amazing. They threw out my halo, though.” Gwaine twisted around to look into the kitchen, where everyone else was plating and icing cookies.  “I made it out of tinsel and everything? Merlin said it was a fire hazard.”

Arthur laughed sleepily. “I think all the candles he has around here are more of a fire hazard.”

“I know!” Gwaine swiped his fingers through Arthur’s whipped cream, staining it red. “God, I’ll never get tired of food.”  He licked his finger, and the paint rubbed off on his tongue. Arthur stared, fascinated. “So,” Gwaine said eventually, “you and Merlin?”

“Yeah, I live next door.” Arthur pointed over his shoulder. Sleep pleasantly clouded his mind, leaving him in just the right amount of haze to be happy without worrying too much.  

“Must make it easy, then.” Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows lewdly.

Arthur missed his meaning. “To visit?”

Gwaine laughed, throwing back his head. “So you do?” Arthur nodded slowly, unsure of what he was agreeing to. “Come over and fuck him?” Gwaine clarified, and Arthur turned beet red.

“No, no! I just met him--just right now, you were in the shower, and besides, he wouldn’t even want to!” Arthur wouldn’t--he wouldn’t--with Merlin--well. Arthur just hadn’t had the chance.  He started shoveling pie into his mouth to hide his embarrassment, but Gwaine was still laughing,

“Oh, please, he would.”

“No, come on!” Arthur looked over his shoulder, praying against all hope that Merlin couldn’t hear them.  Wouldn’t know that Gwaine was saying what Arthur had hoped to hear all night.  

Gwaine shook his head, his long hair falling in his eyes, and leaned back in his seat. “He talks about you sometimes, you know?  Not creepy in any way, just like ‘oh, the cute guy was getting his mail this morning and he waved.’  Cute elementary school stuff, you know?” He sighed and leaned back even further, so his stomach was even with Arthur’s knees. “So, all I’m saying is, if you want him, just ask.”

“I can’t--mmm.” Arthur felt his face turn red, the painful sort of embarrassment that built up pressure under his skin like he was about to burst. He was never more acutely aware of his state of undress, the red of his blush staining the tops of his collarbones and down his chest.  “I don’t know.”

“Just do it.” Gwaine elbowed him, leaving a green elbow print on Arthur’s stomach.  “Mutually beneficial neighbors-fucking agreement.  You get the sex, and no one gets hurt!”

Arthur looked at him. “I don’t even know you.”

“Maybe not, but you’re practically fucking Merlin! That basically makes us brothers-in-law,” Gwaine elbowed him again, and Arthur shied away, trying to stop blushing. People wouldn’t blush so hard at such a casual joke. Right?

“Wait, what?” Merlin was standing right there, a tray full of cookies and eggnog. “I’m sorry, what?” he repeated, shaking his head like he hadn’t heard it the first time.

“It’s, he was joking.” Arthur was surprised that he could talk through his mortified tongue. “I’m so sorry. Um. This pie is great?”

“We were talking about how tight your tush is, Merls,” Gwaine said causally moving over.  “Would you like to join us?”

“Fuck no,” Merlin said, but he sat in the space Gwaine had just vacated anyways, tucking his legs up so they rested on Arthur’s lap. “I think we should put on Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer and cry.”

***

Merlin fell asleep on Arthur, his hair dusting the bottom of Arthur’s chin. Arthur’s arm had conveniently found its place around Merlin’s shoulders, holding him close. The cold, empty space that had built itself up inside Arthur’s chest since the beginning of the week--the month? Last year?  He couldn’t remember anymore--had dissipated, leaving him free to breath.  

Gwaine had sleepily fallen onto Percival’s chest, decorating him and the upholstery with red and green stripes.  Gwen and Lance had occupied the guest bed, and Will and Freya lay in a tangled knot on the couch. Through the slats in the shade, pearly new sunlight spilled onto the carpet rug. Friday morning. Reality hadn’t quite made its appearance, but Arthur could feel its approach.

“I’ll Have a Blue Christmas Without You” wound down on the television, clay tears dripping down a clay girl’s face, and Arthur shifted slightly in his seat.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen so many Christmas movies in his whole life, much less known that they’d existed.  But Merlin and his friends took their celebration seriously.

Merlin stirred too, stretching one arm out past Arthur’s head.  “Morning,” he said softly, and Arthur’s heart lurched.

“You’ve only been asleep a half an hour.”

Merlin smiled, his eyes still closed. “That’s more than enough.” He pat Arthur’s shoulder, upside down. “Do you want hot chocolate?”

“I can get it, you’ve been sleeping--”

Merlin slid to the ground and landed on his knees. “Oh, now you’re comfortable enough to go dig around in my kitchen?” Arthur blushed, and a smirk wrought its way across Merlin’s face. “Here, help me up, and I’ll show you where everything is.”

Arthur pulled him to his feet, and the pair took cautious turns stepping over Will and Freya’s prone forms.  Merlin opened up the curtains in the kitchen, and the skyline of the city spread out in front of them, the pale pink of the sun mixing with the indigo of the fading night. “Why is your apartment so much better than mine?” Arthur asked, his knuckles tight around the edge of the counter.

Merlin laughed softly, his breath brushing Arthur’s ear as he reached over to get coffee mugs.  “It’s because I’m in it.”

Arthur ducked his head down so Merlin couldn’t see his smile. “Okay.”

“You know I’m right. Milk’s in the refrigerator.”

“Right.” The two of them worked in companionable silence, brushing just close enough to feel the heat from each other’s arms. Merlin was still wearing his Christmas cape, and the hem brushed Arthur’s ankles occasionally, sweeping over his skin like a kind touch.

He nearly dropped his mug more than once.

“Whipped cream?” Merlin asked, holding the aerosol bottle aloft as Arthur finished pouring his drink.  

“Mmyeah, sure.” Merlin’s aim was horrible, though, and he got whipped cream all over the rim of the cup and Arthur’s hand, down to his wrist.

“No, stop moving, stop!” Merlin laughed as the whipped cream dripped down Arthur’s knuckles, spilling off his his hand and onto the floor.  He bent down and licked the cream from Arthur’s hand, up to his wrist, his tongue warm against the ridges of Arthur’s skin.  

Arthur’s started, the gasp leaving his lips before he had time to register what was going on, the mug tumbling from his hands and shattering against the tile floor.

“Oh, shit,” Merlin whispered, and Arthur laughed, his stomach shaking.  

“Oh. God, what was with that, Merlin?” He doubled over, and found himself face to face with Merlin, who was picking ceramic shards up off the ground.

Merlin was red from the roots of his hair down to the base of his neck.  He wouldn’t meet Arthur’s face as he spoke, and Arthur immediately sobered. “I thought you might like it,” he said, refusing to look up.

Arthur reached out and touched his hair lightly, just above the ear. “No. I do like it. I did--I did like it. You’re just too sweet, you know?  You’re so sweet, it’s unbearable.” He stilled his fingers, the curls wrapping themselves around his fingers. “I can’t believe I didn’t know you yesterday.”

Merlin looked up at him, every strace of embarrassment gone from his gaze. He leaned forward and kissed Arthur, lips over lips, his hot breath working its way through Arthur’s. He tasted like old sugar and whipped cream, and when Arthur brought his hand up to caress his cheek, his skin was soft.

Arthur closed his eyes and let himself stop thinking, heat pooling low in his stomach.

Merlin crawled over the shattered cup to sit on his lap, or as far on it as he could, one leg on either side of Arthur’s torso, his butt just at the edge of his legs.  His arms wound around Arthur, long fingers in his hair, his nose pressed right against his cheek. Arthur sighed into him, wrapping his arms around his lower back and pressing him tight, tight against his chest. They’d met just 6 hours ago, but Arthur couldn’t remember being this close to anyone in a year, physically and emotionally.

God, he didn’t want to think about how sad that was. He didn’t want to think about anything at all. He dug his fingers into the cape on Merlin’s make, slid his hand behind the cape, to feel the bumps of his spine and the curve of his back.  Merlin was hot against his mouth, his fingers digging into the soft spaces of his neck, the back of his head, his hair.  

He tried to stand up, pick Merlin up like he’d seen in the movies, with his arms wrapped around Merlin’s ass, but he stumbled and fell forward, Merlin sprawling out in front of him, his lips red and kissed, his eyes still focused on Arthur’s face. “Ow,” he said after a moment. “I got a bit in my hand.”

“Oh, shit, shit, shit.” Arthur scrambled forwards to look at Merlin’s hand.  “Are you okay?” A shard of ceramic was wedged in his palm, blood welling up on either side of it.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad.” Merlin grit his teeth and pulled it out, the blood beading out over his pale skin. “I think I’ll need a BandAid, though? They’re in the drawer over the sink.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Arthur scrambled to his feet and pulled the box of bandages off of the shelf. “Here you go. Don’t move too much, okay? Do you want me to get you some Neosporin? Or--”

Merlin laughed, quietly, putting the BandAid on his own hand. “I think I’m okay. Kiss it better?” He held his arm up to Arthur, and Arthur took his wrist delicately, afraid to break any more of him. He kissed the bandage softly, the plastic cool against his lips. And then he kissed the rest of Merlin’s palm, dragging his lips down Merlin’s lifeline and between the creases of his fingers.

“Is this okay?” He said, taking his eyes off the delicate bend of Merlin’s knuckles.

Merlin was watching him with lidded eyes, his other hand loosely fisted against his thigh.  “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.  “Yes please.”

Arthur took Merlin’s chin in his hand and gently kissed him.  Broken cup again forgotten, Arthur pulled Merlin up until he was standing, and stepped backwards until Merlin was trapped between him and the counter. He could feel Merlin’s heartbeat against his own chest, and Merlin’s fingers dug into the side of his head, his thumbs stroking over Arthur’s face.

“Please,” Merlin said again, and Arthur grabbed his wrist again, rougher this time, and dragged him out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He pushed open the second door he came to, unwilling to stumble in on Lance and Gwen, and fell backwards onto Merlin’s bed. Merlin crashed on top of him, his mouth still hunger, his fingers dancing over Arthur’s biceps, over his waist.

“Take it off,” Arthur said, his fingers digging into the knot of Merlin’s cape. “You’re going to choke, take it off.”

Merlin laughed and rolled over on his back, wiggling out of his cape. Throwing it on the floor, he turned to look at Arthur and wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re pretty hot, did you know that?”

Arthur blushed, and smiled as hard as he could. “You’re one to talk.” He dragged his thumb along Merlin’s lower lip, and Merlin bit it, a gentle pressure across his skin.  Arthur closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, trying to keep Merlin from noticing how his pajama bottoms were stretched uncomfortably. Merlin moaned, softly, and crawled on top of Arthur, his knees straddling him, his forehead pressed to Arthur’s, still softly biting on his thumb.

“Hey,” he said softly, letting Arthur’s thumb fall from his mouth.

“Hey,” Arthur replied, putting his hands on Merlin’s shoulders.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur nodded. “Is this okay?” he asked, pulling Merlin down closer, so he could feel Merlin’s breath ghosting across his nose and lips.  

Merlin nodded and leaned forward again, so they were kissing again, but Arthur slipped, the two of them falling into a tangle on the floor. “Shit, sorry,” Arthur said, sitting up, and Merlin sat up too, both of them laughing, their legs tied together underneath them.

“You really are cute,” Merlin said, pushing Arthur’s hair back from his face.

Arthur smiled, as wide as he could. “You are too.” He leaned into Merlin like he’d been doing it his whole life.  The two of them stayed like that, intertwined, long past the rising of the sun.

***

Arthur pulled his hat on over his ears and adjusted the white pom-pom at the end.  He’d opted for just the hat. Not the whole entire elf costume Merlin had spent the greater part of yesterday trying to talk him into.

“You would look so hot in it,” he’d said, standing on the couch, holding the vest and felt shoes out in front of him.

“I look hot in everything,” Arthur replied, staring at him over three dozen unwrapped gifts, scotch tape, and Santa Claus paper.  “Or at least, that’s what my neighbor tells me.”

“Boyfriend,” Merlin insisted, flopping down in a pile next to Arthur. “I’ve been upgraded.”

Tonight, though, Christmas Eve, was another one of Merlin’s epic parties that involved nothing but sugar and movie marathons.  His track record with these parties was quite good, so he wasn’t worried as he checked his hat one more time in the mirror.

Beyond that, there wasn’t much he had to do to prepare. He shut his door carefully behind him, and opened up Merlin’s, the now-familiar scent of candles and pine trees washing over him.

“Hey, everybody,” he said, stepping across the threshold. “Merry Christma--”
Merlin slammed into him, limbs wrapping tightly around Arthur’s neck. He kissed him soundly before Arthur had a chance to close his mouth.

“What the hell was that for?” Arthur pulled back, not truly mad, his hands on Merlin’s waist.

“Mistletoe!” Merlin cried happily. “Merry Christmas, Arthur!”