Page 49 of Fire & Ice

The weeks fly by one after another, the holidays coming and going in their usual fashion. This year, Leander speaks to his one brother, Lawrence, and his niece Chloe via phone, since despite living local, they travel to see Lawrence’s in-laws in Ohio. Leander appreciates the chance to wish them well, but spends all the special days with the Truetts, Chief Miller’s family, and the Harringtons, and that just feels right. It would appear that he’s become an adopted member of the extended Fire family at this point, and for that, he is exceedingly grateful. That phenomenon may exist independently of Tripp, actually—the little ragtag group he’s fallen in with was stitched together from the same lack of having anywhere else to go that Leander boasts in his own life.

Still, being accepted into the circle means sitting next to Tripp at a holiday table, laughing and feeling included, exchanging presents in front of Reina’s fireplace on Christmas Eve, and then falling asleep in Tripp’s lap withElfplaying on the TV. All that instead of spending the night drunk and alone in his too-big, empty apartment, picking at takeaway Chinese. Things could be worse.

By the time February rolls around and Beau's wedding looms large in front of them, Leander could almost talk himself into believing that he and Tripp are in a pattern that could hold indefinitely. That, against all odds, this thing they’ve builtmightbe satisfying in a way that could actuallybeenough for both of them.

At the very least, Tripp hasn’t given him any reason to suspect that he doesn’t feel the same. More importantly, Tripp seems to be benefiting from their arrangement in the same way Leander is: he’s happier, healthier—mentally, at least. Internally, Leander is fairly certain Tripp’s arteries are filled with bacon—and at the end of the day, that’s what matters most.

With the two of them settling into a routine, it also feels to Leander—dare he say it?—almost easy. The way their lives intertwine so naturally, with work and play and their respective but overlapping social circles. The way he and Tripp havealwaysfit together so effortlessly—it all justworks.

Strange as it may sound, his relationship with Tripp really does feel meant to be. In fact, if Leander didn’t know better, he might be inclined to call it fate or destiny, or something equally ridiculous and non-existent that, as a recovering churchgoer, he definitely doesn’t believe in…except, it’s hardnotto believe, every time he looks at Tripp.

Well, not rightnow, perhaps, since Tripp is driving him up the proverbial fucking wall, and he’d sooner knock him out cold just to shut him up than pee on him if he was on fire.

It’s four in the morning, and the fire scene for which Leander is coordinating the EMS response has been raging for over two hours. As if sitting outside in the dead of night, taking blood pressures and listening to lung sounds on endless repeat while the temperature hovers just below freezing isn’t enough,Station Fifteen is first due, and therefore, Leander also hasTrippand his randomly rotten attitude to deal with.

On top of that, the house system at the station activating for the call rather rudely interrupted averypleasant dream, and the kind of deep sleep that Leander rarely achieves while on duty. Being jolted awakeandout of a mental scene in which he had Tripp tied up and making the most delicious noises while dripping wax all over his body—it was jarring,to say the least.

Hours later, those imagesstillrefuse to leave his head, which isn’t particularly helpful when Leanderneedsto focus. Needs to pay attention and ensure that he isn’t sending at-risk firefighters back inside to combat the blaze when their bodies can’t handle it. Fire rehab at a low-risk scene like this is dull as all get-out by nature, but it’s necessary and important, too, as so many boring things are.

EMS isn’t always excitement and glamour.

In addition to boring, Leander’s job is also occasionally infuriating. Like, for instance, when he’s the paramedic in charge and he has a bull-headed firefighter who sits down for a routine vital sign check, only to get benched for having a too-high blood pressure and pulse.Fifteen minutesof rest is all that’s being asked of him, but the walking hero-complex will absolutely not accept that heisn’t fucking Superman,and that sometimes his body needs a damn break.

“There are three other members of your crew sitting here with you,” Leander argues, his face set firmly in a scowl as he goes physically toe-to-toe and chest-to-chest with Tripp. “You’ve all been inside that blaze for nearly an hour, you need torest.” For some bizarre reason, Tripp seems to be under the false impression that he can intimidate Leander into giving him his way tonight. “You don’t see any of them complaining ortalking back. Stop being a stubborn bastard and sit on your ass until your heart calms down!”

“Theyaren’t Lieutenants,” Tripp sasses back, unfazed by Leander’s proximity in a way he wouldn’tdarepull in private, and the warring thoughts in Leander’s head both love and hate the challenge. Mostly, he wishes he could slap Tripp across the face before turning him over his knee, but he supposes keeping his job is worth tabling that particular inclination for the time being.

Still, it’s tempting. Tripp is asight—red-faced and sweaty, his hair sticking up wildly in all directions as he holds his helmet casually underneath his arm. His bunker jacket is tossed onto the floor of the ambulance, draped halfway over the truck’s license plate in the way it falls down through the open back doors. Without it, Tripp is left wearing only his bunker pants and suspenders with a plain white t-shirt underneath, and despite the extreme chill, his bare arms are a rosy color from working inside the burning building.

“Lee, a hose line to the third floor might be the difference between these people having homes to come back to or not.”

“A fifteen-minute break might be the difference between you spending the night in the hospital or not,” Leander challenges, raising his eyebrows and holding Tripp’s eye contact without flinching.

“Wow! Wow, wow, wowwee!” Leander’s niece, Chloe, pipes up loudly from where she’s sprawled out in a camp chair nearby, one leg over the arm as she accepts her temporary benching from Lee much more gracefully than Tripp. Which is really something, since Chloe is frequently a disrespectful little shit—just like her father, his brother—though Leander loves her endlessly.

“Rawr,” she continues, making a claw with her hand. “You could cut that sexual tension with a knife.” She laughs, and Tripp’s second, Mac (also benched beside her), joins in so enthusiastically he nearly falls off of his chair.

Ignoring them all, Tripp just narrows his eyes and tips his head, the unspoken message he’s sending to Leander crystal-clear. But this is Leander’sjob,and neither Gunnar nor Mickey is going to be so dumb as to overrule a medic—a Captain—who says that a firefighter needs a break, so Leander’s unclear why Tripp even thinks there’s a battle to fight here. After another tense minute of staring, Tripp sighs and relents, sinking down onto the truck’s bumper and ripping the radio mic off of the belt loop where it’s been clipped since he shucked his jacket.

“Lieutenant Fifteen to Fire Command,” he says, after depressing the ‘talk’ button and waiting for the channel to click open. Gunnar answers in short order, and Tripp rolls his eyes. “I’ll be with EMS for fifteen,” he says grudgingly.

“Ten-four,” crackles the reply, and Tripp slumps back against the truck, folding his arms across his chest, defeated. Totally because it’s his job and not at all to rub the salt of his moral victory into the wound, Leander makes his way to Tripp’s side and drapes a hospital blanket around his shoulders.

“There, there,” he says blandly, biting back his smirk as Tripp glares. In his peripheral vision, Leander’s attention is caught by another team entering the apartment building with an additional hose line. “Look at that,” he says. “A line for the third floor.”

The bottle of water in Tripp’s hand crackles as he crushes it into his palm. “You’re such a dick.”

“I’ll remember you said that,” Leander tells him, squeezing his shoulder as he uses it for leverage to climb up into theambulance and retrieve some more linens. “Later.” Thrillingly, Tripp’s eyes go slightly wide and he drops his head, shifting against the bumper in a way that Leander recognizes easily as Tripp feeling arousal while wearing a cage. Nylon, of course, because fire, but still.

Delightful.

“Whoa,” Mac says suddenly, prompting Leander to glance over his shoulder, only to find the mullet-sporting firefighter leaning forward in his chair, intent. His eyes are narrowed and he’s moving his hand back and forth as if he’s trying to suss out the energy between Leander and Tripp. “When did the two of you end the mating dance and get physical?”

Having picked that very moment to take a drink from his semi-crushed bottle, Tripp sputters water and Leander barks out a laugh. Unsurprisingly, Chloe swiftly comes to their ‘rescue’, because mocking her uncle is one of her favorite pastimes.

“Are you serious, Mac? Where do you live, under a rock? They’ve been fucking for months,” she declares, only somewhat derisively.

“Chloe,” Leander snaps. “Don’t be crass.”

---