Page 3 of Fire & Ice

“Hello, Tripp,” Leander replies, settling Ben onto the stretcher and introducing himself, immediately producing and handing over an inflated nitrile glove with a smiley face drawn in permanent marker on the palm. The endearment works—Ben gleefully accepts the gift, and does so with the untempered spark of someone who was not in life-threatening danger meremoments prior. Kids are heckin’ resilient like that, though it’s something that never fails to floor Tripp, seeing it live and in person.

Behind him, Gunnar is shutting the oxygen tank on Tripp’s back off before moving to tug at his helmet and hood so that Tripp can move a little easier around the ambulance. He bats Gunnar’s hands away, taking off his own mask before reluctantly allowing Gunnar to slip the tank from his shoulders, mostly so he doesn’t accidentally destroy some of Lee's equipment in the process. Finally free from the worst of his protective gear, Tripp shakes his sweaty head and works his jaw before turning to give Gunnar the full attention he’s waiting on.

“Stay with Lee,” Gunnar instructs. “Do whatever he needs you to do—I’m assuming he’s gonna want Marley in the back helping out, so you’ll need to drive. Hit me up by radio if y’all need anything, you hear me?”

Tripp nods, reaching out a hand to fist bump his Captain in acknowledgement before Gunnar escapes back out the side door. He watches through the window as Gunnar returns to the active fire scene, checking in with Command and getting back to work. He takes Tripp’s pack with him, but leaves the rest of his gear.

When Tripp turns around again, Marley has the back door open and is standing there with Ben’s mother, who is still sobbing and bereft. Leander catches Tripp’s gaze and raises an eyebrow, to which Tripp holds up an understanding hand.

“Say no more,” he says, before exiting out the side of the ambulance, closing the door, and making his way towards the back. “I got her and I’ll drive,” he tells Marley, who eyes him gratefully before climbing in with Lee and pulling the doors shut behind her.

Plastering on his most empathetic face, Tripp wraps an arm around the petite woman’s shoulders and moves to guide her towards the cab of the ambulance and the front passenger’s seat. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks kindly, waiting patiently as the woman sniffles and wipes her nose on her sleeve. Tripp realizes belatedly that it’s actually a bathrobe, which is not surprising, considering how the fire clearly caught this family off guard, flaring to life in the dead of night.

“Liza,” she replies choppily, tipping her head to blink up at him with big, watery eyes.

Hoo, boy. Definitely in another time and place, Tripp thinks.

“Thank you,” she tells him, stopping Tripp’s arm as he reaches for the door handle like the gentleman he is. “Honestly, I can never—”

“You’re welcome.” Tripp cuts her off gently but genuinely, removing her hand from his arm—not unkindly—before opening the door, assisting when she struggles to climb up and inside. “It was my pleasure, glad we could be here. We’re all just relieved that everyone is okay. Houses, clothes, even pictures—all that stuff is replaceable, you guys aren’t.” Liza nods as she looks down at him and Tripp offers her a soft smile, reaching out again to squeeze her hand briefly, a small gesture of comfort and reassurance. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay,” Liza echoes, nodding down at her lap as if she’s trying to convince herself. “Okay.”

“Seatbelt,” Tripp reminds her as he closes the door.

Having been trained to drive all of the fire apparatus, maneuvering the box ambulance is a breeze. Although, Tripp does have to keep reminding himself that there are people in the back, that he can’t take turns at sixty miles per hour andon two wheels—not if he wants Lee to make it to the hospital concussion-free.

On the way there, Tripp collects some basic info from Ben’s mom, relaying the important pieces to Lee through the pass-through window cut between the cab and the box. Once at the hospital, he takes it upon himself to register the kid while Lee and Marley are transferring him to a room and giving report to the Emergency Department team assuming care.

When Tripp’s done his part and then some, he meets the two EMS providers back at the ambulance where they’re cleaning and restocking used supplies. Tripp props his booted foot up on the truck’s fender, shivering a little in the chilly night air. He slipped his bunker jacket off before driving to the hospital—it was too warm and too confining for that particular task—but he kind of misses it now, since all he had underneath was a short-sleeved t-shirt.

“I told you to wear your long-sleeved tee,” Leander grumbles, barely looking up from where he’s organizing IV supplies back into the kit. His dark, messy hair is in a worse state than usual, looking as if each strand is determined to go in a different direction, just to piss off Tripp. It makes his stupidly handsome face look even more so than usual, and it’s distracting enough that Tripp fails at coming up with a snappy retort.

“Geez, I knew you two were attached at the hip, but he’s dressing you now, Truett?” Marley teases him as she slides the door to one of the storage cabinets shut, pumping some sanitizer into her palm and rubbing both hands together until they’re dry.

“Fuck you,” Tripp mumbles back, shoving a hand down inside his bunker gear to fish in the pocket of his regular pants and find his phone. Technically, he’s not supposed to have it inside a live burn, but who’s telling? Ducking his head to hidethe flush in his cheeks, he drags up Gunnar’s number and shoots off a text message:Pick me the hell up, bitch.

“No, he doesn’tdressme. We were drinkin’ last night and I passed out on his couch.” It’s a half-truth, but it’s not like Tripp’s about to disclose to Marley (or anyone else) what he and Lee wereactuallydoing until two a.m., or what they have planned for tonight. Swallowing hard, Tripp struggles to compose himself after flashing back to that discussion, determinedly ignoring the interested twitch his dick gives, a movement that’s thankfully hidden beneath several layers ofverythick material.

When he finally glances up from his phone, Tripp’s not remotely shocked to see Leander staring back at him and smirking openly. While Marley might be oblivious, Leander knowsexactlywhat he’s thinking about. Probably knows what his dick is doing in his pants, too, smug bastard. To make matters worse, Lee is now lounging against the ambulance wall with one foot propped up on the stretcher. He’s oh-so-casual, infuriatingly calm, his crotch and the outline of what he’s packing on easy display in his duty pants, and his piercing gaze challenging when it meets Tripp’s.

Narrowing his eyes, Tripp replies without words as loudly as he possibly can.

“Will you be needing a ride back to the fire scene?” Leander asks, completely cool, totally nonchalant, but Tripp doesn’t miss the way his fingers trail up the inside of his thigh, coming to rest scant inches from his groin.

“No,” he manages to reply, voice slightly strained. “Gunnar, uh—” He checks his phone and bites back a grimace. Gunnar won’t be able to come grab him for at least another thirty minutes, but no way is he going to let Leander in on that. If there’s one thing Tripp is sure of right now, it’s that he can’tbe stuck in a confined space with his best friend while they’re both on work duty.

He can’t—the teasing is cute, but if it keeps up, one of them is going to end up dead, fired, or worse. His thoughts slightly addled, Tripp pulls his shit together for long enough to remember the point he was trying to make. “You guys go on and head out, Gunnar’s gonna come grab me.” It’s not a lie, and Tripp’ll die on this hill if that’s what he has to do.

“Alright,” Leander replies easily, dusting off his pants as he stands. The devious smile on his face belies the fact that he knowsexactlywhat Tripp is doing, and is more than happy to let him make his own bedandlie in it.

Very abruptly, Tripp realizes exactly how deep he is in this, that Leander doesn’t think he even needs to be in the sameroomto torture and distract him. The truly awful thing is, he’s right. Even worse, Tripp issuperinto it, wouldn’t bail on this whole thing for all the bacon cheeseburgers in the universeandthe metabolism to put them away.

As Leander steps down out of the truck, he drops a heavy hand to Tripp’s shoulder, squeezing hard and for long enough to send a pointed message that Tripp and his dick receive loud and clear. Marley follows behind, jumping off the bumper and shooting each of them a concerned look in turn.

“Are you guys alright? There’s something...” She narrows her eyes and waves an index finger back and forth, covering the charged space between them. “Something in the air, here.”

“We’re fine,” Tripp retorts, waving dismissively as Leander wordlessly shrugs. They’re saved from further prodding—and possibly the Spanish Inquisition, because Marley can be like a dog with a bone when she thinks she’s onto something—by tones dropping over the radio clipped to Leander’s hip.

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