Merlin was annoyed. Scratch that, Merlin was pissed off beyond belief. If he was completely honest with himself he wasn't really surprised at how the meeting with his editor panned out. He wasn't expecting gushing accolades about his travel column 'Merlin's Meanderings', which he'd been writing for the past three years – but he didn't expect to be out rightly told it was no good. Okay, Bryce didn't actually say that in so many words, although the gist of it was there.

Huffing in anger Merlin pulled his small car into the parking lot of his local pub that he'd been trying to ignore for the best part of two years. Previously it had been a derelict bikie pub, with cycles and scantily clad woman who should know better, draped over middle-aged bearded men with tattoos on their throats. Two months earlier somebody had bought the lease and turned it into a small Irish pub, complete with a leprechaun stencilled onto the window – Merlin thought it looked kitsch. But, desperate times meant desperate measures and he needed alcohol to get rid of the bitter taste the meeting had left in his mouth. Plus the travel writer inside of him enjoyed trying new establishments – even if they were within walking distance to his home and looked like seven years olds had attacked a sign in the window.

Grabbing his satchel from the back seat, Merlin made a sprint for the front doors to escape the rain which had decided to pelt down in the last ten minutes. The weather suited his mood perfectly. As he skidded to a stop in front of the large doors, Merlin lost his footing and slipped on the wet concrete – falling on his arse. Swearing blue murder he gingerly climbed to his feet rubbing his lower back.

"Bloody hell, could this day get any fucking better?" he ground out while pushing on the heavy wooden door. Merlin was clumsy on the best of days, but today was taking it to a whole new level. He'd already spilt coffee down one shirt - managing to leave a rather large red scald mark on his stomach, lucky he had a spare shirt in his desk. Then he'd almost lost a finger in the industrial shredder at the office, the small Iron Man band-aid over his index finger mocked him. The nurse on staff had a six year old and had run out of normal adult beige tape. Bryce had called him inept as he tripped on the rug going into his office and his best mate Gwaine had cracked him in the skull with a ball, because Merlin apparently had the reaction time of a walrus bathing.

The first thing Merlin noticed when he walked into the bar was how dark the room was, not a traditional 'who turned out the lights dark?' but, more of a comforting and homey type which made you want to walk in further. So far so good, Merlin thought to himself – until his thigh struck a table corner.

"Mother of all that is bloody….."

"Are you okay, mate?" A deep voice asked over Merlin's shoulder.

"No I'm bloody not, you twat. I've just impaled myself on a table – don't you have safety guidelines you're supposed to follow?" Merlin didn't even register who he could have been talking to as he was leaning over rubbing at the now tender spot on his leg

"Sorry about that - I was just coming over to fix it, we had a family in for lunch and the kids started to re-arrange furniture."

"Not good enough – I could have hurt myself." Now, even Merlin knew he was going overboard, but his day had been infinitely shitty and embarrassing himself walking into a table in the pub was not making him feel any better about his life at the moment.

"Well maybe, Sir, you should watch where you are going in future." The man brushed past him and pulled the table back into a more uniform placing. All Merlin saw was tight black trousers, broad shoulders and blonde hair. He was also very angry at this waiter who had disrespected him.

Mumbling under his breath about seeing the manager, Merlin slightly limped over to the bar itself. Even under the cloud of bad mood, Merlin did appreciate the set up from the inside. Cartoon Irish people on the window aside, the interior was absolutely beautiful; a dark mahogany bar lined with cushioned stools was before him. Above the bar a pelmet of lead-lighting intricate and colourful followed the course of the counter 'The Pendragon's Den' was written within the stained glass, giving it an old worldly look. To his left tables and chairs littered the small space, and on the right couches and low coffee tables were set up before one of the biggest fire-places Merlin had ever seen. It was at least ten feet wide, and covered by a huge wrought iron grate with a dragon dancing across its face.

Merlin had already fallen in love with the pub, bad waiters aside. It was busy for this time of day, which was always a good indication on the service and prices. About seven people sat at the bar nursing drinks and talking to each other, another twenty people or so were sitting at the tables enjoying an after work cocktail or two, and a bunch of twenty something's were taking up one couch in front of the monolithic fire which was burning brightly and offering warmth. Merlin spied a wing back chair just to the left of the fire; it had a small round table and was the perfect place to sit and gather his thoughts on the day's horrific beginning.

"What can I get you, friend?" Merlin turned around to the bar only to find himself face to face with perfection, until he realised who was addressing him. It was the damn waiter – bartender he amended.

He obviously recognised Merlin too if the smile slowly dropping off his face was any indication. Merlin took a second to look this man over, he was tall – almost as tall as Merlin, which was no mean feat, had blonde hair that brushed the back of his collar and fell into his eyes, which by all rights couldn't be as blue as they appeared.

"Do you want a drink – or are you going to sue me for improper table placement?" The muscled blonde man was speaking to him, and Merlin's mouth went dry, his voice was hypnotically deep.

"Pint of larger," he managed to choke out, realising he must have been stare-glaring at the barman to illicit such an unfriendly response. Gwaine called him on it all the time, Merlin argued it was his thinking face – but apparently he still looked like 'the biggest arse' when he did it.

Realising he was in a foul mood and he'd been rude to the blonde barman who just happened to be very good looking, he felt the need to apologise – well attempt to anyway. When he placed the beer before Merlin, he glanced up and questioned in what he thought was a polite tone, "Friend?"

"My mistake, that'll be 2 quid thanks."

Merlin passed over the money and scowled a little. Weren't bar people meant to be nice, no matter how much of a dick patrons could be? Clearly not in this establishment, Merlin thought to himself, although he couldn't blame the man – not really.

Taking his beer to the small table near the fire, Merlin sat back and almost sighed out loud. The chair was more comfortable than his couch at home. He settled back into it and took a sip of his lager, a flash of yellow caught his eye and he looked up – damn it. The chair he'd inadvertently chosen as his safe haven had a complete view of the bar and the Prat behind the counter.

He sat back and took a large gulp; the beer was cold and had the perfect amount of head – his thoughts flicked to the blonde again for no reason. Merlin looked around and settled in more, he had nowhere to be and a night at the pub could be just the thing to help him relax and gain some much needed clarity for his job.

Once again he was pulled from his angry thoughts as the barman cleaned up after the young adults who'd left the couches near Merlin. He found his eyes wandering over the man's snug but well fitted black shirt which had a logo of Kilkenny embroidered on the chest. As he looked at the blonde's hands he felt a small tug of something, they were good hands – they managed to pick all the glasses and plates up in one hit. He was so busy staring he didn't realise when the legs encased in tight black pants were standing directly in front of him. The name badge stuck to his pants taunted Merlin – did it say Allen or Artie?

"Are you always this clumsy, or is it my lucky day?" Merlin squinted up at the man's deep voiced question, feeling the slow anger burn again.

"Excuse me?"

The man indicated the small table with the salt and pepper shakers strewn about – Merlin didn't even remember doing it. He took another gulp of beer daring the blonde to say something else. He felt something drop on his lap and the man smirked knowingly, Merlin's glass had picked up the coaster with its condensation and it fell to the floor. He felt like a fool, and although that was usual he didn't want this handsome man laughing at him. Of course as he picked up the coaster he smacked his head on the wingback chair making the blonde roar with glee.

"Really? I want to see your boss…" Merlin heard the hiss in his voice, he never got this irate so quickly – he was generally an amiable bloke.

"Mr Pendragon? You really don't want to bother him at the moment – he's known as a bit of a tosser. Try not to hurt yourself again, oh, by the way - nice band-aid." He gave Merlin a wink and strode off.

Merlin sat there completely flustered and face burning red, not even understanding why. The barman was rude, obnoxious and too gorgeous and arrogant for his own good. Hang on, gorgeous?…Hell, who was Merlin kidding, the man screamed, fuck me - which meant he was in no way, shape or form ever going to look twice at somebody like Merlin – he was too gangly and nerdy for somebody like that. So why was he sitting there thinking about him? Stupid cock – it always found an attraction with somebody completely unsuitable.

As his clothes dried off and he warmed up from the fire he thought back to what Bryce had brought up in his quarterly meeting. The paper was looking for something a little more in its travel articles, sure Merlin put in all the facts and costs – but apparently it lacked – whimsy. What the bloody hell was whimsy? Did they want Merlin to write about enchanted castles and princesses who kissed frogs? He had been doing this well for three years, now they wanted to change it up. Usually Merlin was up for any challenge but to criticize what he put his heart into felt wretched.

Thinking back on the last few articles he wrote, he pulled out his pad and jotted down a few notes he could have incorporated to make them more interesting - it didn't work. He just didn't think his readers would enjoy a whimsical train journey through Egypt – they wanted facts, not tales of a misguided Prince who led his people into the desert. Was he becoming jaded over time?

Maybe he needed to not write about travel, maybe he needed to do a few writing exercises he picked up at University. He always loved creative writing, what if he practised free writing; then he could incorporate some of that in his travel pieces. Something golden took his attention from his thoughts and he realised with a growl the bartender was pouring beer and one of the overhead lights had caught his hair in its gleam. Bloody distracting Pillock, maybe the pub wasn't a great place to relax and think.

Looking back down at the empty page, Merlin remembered his childhood and how he'd loved writing. He had always written himself in as the main protagonist, the hero on most occasions. It was easier for him as he understood how to react in certain situations, than having to create a whole new person. He took another sip and placed the glass down – on the coaster, then picked up a pen and began to write.

Merlin looked up at the burning building with trepidation and a small amount of fear, flames licked towards the sky already and it had only been burning for what felt like a heartbeat. He knew lives were at stake and he also knew he was the first person on the scene; it was up to him - or wait until back up came and he lost precious time.

Being a cop had been Merlin's dream as a small child and when he graduated University after doing a degree in Architecture (on his father's wishes) he joined the force. He ran back to his patrol car and grabbed his thick duffel jacket and the riot mask he kept in the trunk. Hopefully it would keep some of the heat and bite of the flames off his skin.

Once he breached the ground floor, he methodically and quickly cleared and checked each apartment until he reached the stairwell which led to the burning floor. He knew it wouldn't take more than a few minutes for the fire to start burning the levels below it – but he had to check for people.

He grabbed a towel from the last unit he'd swept and used it to grab hold of the doorhandle which led upstairs, he felt the heat through his thick gloves – it wasn't going to be pretty. Standing to the side he threw the door open. As the air hit the flames he heard a whoosh and fire jumped past him – Merlin dashed inside and raced up the stairs.

A faint cry could be heard and he followed it down another hall which hadn't caught completely on fire yet. He burst through the door and saw a small child and mother curled in the corner, tears streaming down their pale and frightened faces.

Suddenly Merlin heard a noise behind him and a fire fighter completely outfitted raced in. He threw a large yellow and orange jacket at Merlin and barked an order for him to place it on. Merlin looked completely shocked – he hadn't even heard the sirens.

"Are you daft – put the damn jacket on and cover the child with this blanket and follow me."

Merlin bristled at the order in the man's voice but complied – they didn't have much time to waste. The young boy weighed absolutely nothing in Merlin's arms and he picked him up with no trouble.

"You're safe now, just grab hold of me around the neck and don't let go – okay." Wide red-rimmed brown eyes looked into his solemnly and he nodded once. Merlin smiled and felt small tight arms encircle him and then they were off.

The tall fire fighter led them to the stairs which were now burning so rapidly it would have been suicide to attempt to take them on. He heard a muttered oath from underneath the reflective mask and he turned so quickly he almost trod on Merlin.

"The window, go back, we have to take the drain pipes down. Come on, we don't have much time."

Merlin hoped like hell that this old building would have pipes which could hold their weight, but the alternative of burning to death wasn't appealing at all. He quickly changed direction until they came to a window. The fireman smashed it with a gloved fist and started to reassure the mother it was safe. Merlin begrudgingly admired the competent way this man handled the almost hysterical mother.

"You first…" he was pointing at Merlin and he felt himself hesitate for a moment, "Bloody hell, get going."

Merlin jumped, and realised he was stalling. He gave the child back to the fireman and climbed out. Once he had a good grip and could see the balcony below him, he yelled back at his phantom fire fighter.

"Give me the boy."

It was slow going at first, they were up many stories and the child shook and whimpered, but never let go. Merlin got to the balcony on the next floor, but noticed immediately it was already burning inside, so he continued to climb down slowly. Looking up he saw the fireman with the woman piggy backing him and felt relief they had both gotten out safely.

The entire fiasco from when Merlin entered the building to when he reached the ground took only minutes, but it seemed to last forever. His feet hit the ground and a fellow policeman took the small child.

Merlin took off his riot mask and the jacket he was given and sucked down some water somebody pressed into his hands as he watched the other man alight on the ground. Looking around Merlin saw three fire trucks with multiple firemen aiming hoses into the building trying to stop the spread. The fire looked a lot scarier from down here – when had it gotten so big? He felt his knees weaken at the thought he was in the midst of it less than a minute or two ago.

He left the rest of the officers and firemen to it and he found an ambulance on the fringe of the crowd and was ushered into the back for oxygen as he hadn't been wearing the proper gear for a fire. Leaning back he sucked in sweet crisp air and congratulated himself on a job well done, when suddenly a livid fireman stood before him.

"What the hell were you thinking? Going in there with no oxygen or fire retardant gear – are you mad or just stupid?"

Merlin felt himself bristle – who in hell was this man behind the reflective fire mask? Who the fuck was he to tell Merlin what he could or couldn't do?

"The two lives I saved would make it obvious I did the right thing, you arrogant wanker." Although Merlin admired what fire fighters did on a daily basis – there was no reason for this particular one to be such an arse about it.

Before Merlin could take in another breath to tell him what a complete and utter knob he thought he was, he was yanked from the back of the ambulance and pushed against the side of the adjoining building's wall. Merlin felt his heartbeat spike. Was he scared - or something else?

"What would I have done if you got hurt you idiot?"

Merlin felt the air rush out of his lungs, and he knew exactly who was under the helmet – a one-night stand from a few weeks earlier, one he'd been hoping to see again. He reached up and pulled the mask off looking directly into blue eyes so deep and worried he almost lost his sense of time. Lips crushed his in a flurry of anguish and relief. Merlin revelled in the feeling of the slightly chapped lips as they devoured his in a kiss he'd been craving for weeks.

Coming alive, Merlin grasped the blonde man's head and pulled his hair slightly to better angle their mouths. He groaned as a tongue began to probe and tangle with his own, Merlin's cock had come blatantly alive in his pants and if the growl the other man gave was any indication he'd felt it too.

Hands began to quest and search, and while Merlin's mouth was being plundered his prick was suddenly getting attention lavished on it. He almost passed out as a warm hand snuck in through his now unzipped pants. He looked around and saw nobody paying attention to the cop and fireman almost out of sight across from the burning building. He sighed as lips found his jaw, licking and sucking before capturing his mouth again in a flurry of hot open mouthed kisses.

Merlin jerked as his fireman gripped his cock hard, and began to slowly fist it, letting go slightly at the tip to only grip harder as he pushed back to the base. Merlin groaned and let his head fall onto the slightly smoky smelling jacket, enjoying the feel of having his cock touched.

Stroke upon stroke, harder then softer, flew through Merlin's body. He was tingling from his toes through to his chest and he didn't give a flying fuck if somebody came up to them – he wasn't going to stop this until he'd blown all over his fireman's hot hand.

Fingers clasped tight and a thumb was pressed hard against the vein on the underside of Merlin's dick as his tormentor really started to pump. Short bursts of air left Merlin's throat as he felt the beginnings of an orgasm in the pit of his gut. He never could last long when such expert fingers danced across his flesh.

"Come for me, baby – I want you to coat my hand so I can lick it off…finger…by….finger."

Merlin come with a shout, muffled when he was forcibly kissed taking the air from his lungs. He felt his dick pulsing as the last of his seed left his body. Slumping a little he leaned back against the wall – looking up into blue eyes which were dark with lust. He almost came again while he watched his blonde lick each and every finger and moan in want.

"I'm going to fuck you into the ground when I get you back to my place."

Merlin felt the bottom of his stomach drop out as his arse clenched in anticipation…

A loud clunk made Merlin drop his pen and quickly pull his pad up against his chest, hiding the words he was shocked to have written. What the hell?

"Refill, looks like you could use it – you've been writing furiously for over half an hour. What are you working on?"

Merlin looked up knowing his face was flushed red in arousal from his smutty story, he looked directly into blue eyes – blue eyes which had featured very heavily in his fantasy…writing. He felt embarrassment fill him and he quickly snapped, "None of your business."

The golden haired bartender watched him for a moment, Merlin tried desperately not to look at his lips, he lost the battle and his eyes found the soft pink mouth. He almost groaned, shit.

"Fair enough – just giving you a free ale to say sorry for being a prick before. Enjoy your night."

He watched as the blonde picked up Merlin's empty glass and walked off stopping to chat to a few patrons at the bar. Merlin felt like a right clotpole and wanted to call the barman back and apologise, but how could he say – 'sorry, you startled me as I'd just finished describing you sucking my come from your fingers….' Not the best conversation starter there was.

Eying the beer before him, Merlin took a shaky sip, still coming down from writing. It had been years since he let his mind flow free and write itself. Although his cop hero story had a decidedly unexpected twist – he'd not meant for a hot fireman to enter. It was supposed to be Merlin being hailed a saviour by rescuing a mother and child – not a story about a gorgeous fireman jerking him off after a daring escape from a burning building. Even if it wasn't the story he'd set out to write, he had sat down and immersed himself completely and that was the original goal.

Merlin downed the rest of the beer and quickly left the bar without a backwards glance. And who was he to judge if when he got home he wanked himself dry in the shower, then again in bed all while thinking about a blue eyed fireman who suspiciously looked like an arrogant bartender.

He could never go back to The Pendragon's Den - that was certain.

A/N: Why hello there - just trying my hand at a multi-chaptered fiction for these two ridiculously hot boys, hopefully it works out! Really hoped you enjoyed the first chapter - I will warn you now, it may get a little 'ahem' heated in future chapters.

Would love to hear your thoughts - thanks for reading and take it easy! :)