Merlin struggled against the weight of the doors. He gasped for breath, trying to whisper a spell, but his energy was gone, and he couldn't even breathe.
His lungs strained. It hurt, hurt like hell, and then Arthur was there, like a man possessed, lifting that door. Merlin scrambled out, and Arthur dropped it, then dropped himself to Merlin's side.
"Oh, God, Merlin, don't die- please don't die-"
Merlin sucked air, beautiful, sweet, smoke-filled, stinking air into his lungs. "You almost sound like you wouldn't enjoy it." He choked out. "Water."
Arthur pressed his own water skin into Merlin's hands. Merlin uncorked it and put it to his mouth. He drank, but not much- there had to be some for Arthur. For emergencies. Merlin's smoky throat was no emergency. "I wouldn't." He answered.
Merlin handed the water skin back to him. "Oh, really. Good to know."
"If I wanted you dead, Merlin, would I have saved your life? God, Merlin, why would you think that of me?" Arthur asked, blue eyes pained. Merlin gave him a wan grin. The stone under him was hot. The fires are to the second floor now. Great.
"I don't." He answered. "You can't take a joke anymore."
"Not if it involves you dying." Arthur whispered.
Merlin stared at him. "That's sweet of you. What's next, a declaration of love?"
"Yes."
And then Arthur was kissing him.
Author's Note: This is actually a little scene in my novel adapted to Merlin. I just realised it would suit them. Arthur's the type to get scared and recklessly admit his feelings after a close call.