Pyro's own breathing was loud in his ears, and past it he could hear Scout's breaths, calm and even. It didn't bother Pyro that Scout was more relaxed than him-at leat, not anymore.
Scout's hand was on Pyro's knee, and they both watched it progress slowly farther and farther upwards.
"Let's play a game." Scout's whisper was in his ear. "It's called Fire Truck. When you want me to stop, say 'red light', okay?"
Pyro nodded, slowly. He wasn't so sure about this game, but Scout was biting his lip, eyes bright and interested, focusing entirely on his hand on Pyro's leg. When Scout made faces like that, it was hard for Pyro to say no.
The hand inched up, sliding smoothly over the thick rubber of Pyro's suit, and Pyro grew ever more and more nervous, so much so that he half-steamed over the lenses of his mask with his halting breaths.
At last, when Scout's hand was just a few inches from running out of leg, and it seemed the walls of Scout's darkened room were closing in on Pyro, whose heart was beating against his ribcage like the time he'd put his ear to Scout's chest and heard Archimedes moving around inside, Pyro scooted back a little on Scout's bed and tried to push Scout's hand away, but Scout was adamant.
"Mgd mght," Pyro said. "Mgd mght,"
Scout laughed, for the first time looking directly at Pyro.
"Fire trucks don't stop at red lights," he said gleefully, and pushed Pyro down onto his bed.
Pyro woke up in a panic, arms trembling, heart racing, head spinning. When he came to his senses, and realized he had been dreaming, and was actually safe in his own bed, he let out a sigh of releif and lay back down.
What a scary dream. But of course, it was just a dream. Nothing like that would ever happen in real life.
Of course fire rucks stop at red lights, he reassured himself. They have to.
And with that comforting thought, he rolled over and fell asleep.