A/N: I regret nothing about this. Nothing at all. XD As per usual, reviews are very much appreciated and will be answered. In the meantime, and most importantly, enjoy! Oh, and Roy would like to add that, for the record, he DOES NOT scream like a little girl. Don't believe him. He really does. ^-^

There were few things that every single person could agree on, but this was one of them: summers in Los Angeles County were utter misery. Plant, animal, human, it didn't matter who you were or what it was. The heat would bake you like loaf of bread and make you do that awkward dance on the pavement where you tried to avoid standing in one spot for too long so that you didn't burn your feet.

It was right at the height of one of these torturous days that Station 51 got called out to a small house fire. Roy sprang up off his bunk and hurried to the squad, failing to notice when he knocked over one of his turnout boots. The doors hung open wide when they departed and the cool air conditioning flowed out, catching one little thing's attention.

It was a garden snake- in and of itself not too remarkable given that it was California, where he and many of his brethren lay thick on the ground- but this one, well, he was about to make himself remarkable. It wasn't through any conscious thought, purely unintentional, but he was hot just like everything else and the cool air from the fire house drew him like a moth to a bug lamp. He slithered sluggishly into the bay and promptly began to seek out a nice dark cool spot to relax in for a while; like, say, the inside of a boot that had fallen to the floor.

More specifically, the inside of Roy's boot.

It was another hour and a half before the men got back to the station, hotter than they'd ever thought was possible from a physiological perspective, and most simply collapsed onto their bunks without even looking twice. Roy did much the same, noticing his fallen turnout boot and nudging it back into a standing position with his toe without even looking inside. Now the unfortunate snake was trapped in a smelly boot all day. Joy.

It seemed that everyone in 51's area had finally decided that it was too hot to have emergencies, because they didn't get called out again that whole day. They were able to just sit and marinate in peace. "Hey Marco, you got any barbecue sauce?" Chet called from where he wasn't even going to think about unsticking himself from the couch.

"Yeah, but I was making tacos," Marco replied.

"No, no, it's not for the food; it's for me. I figure I might as well at least have a nice flavor while I cook." Johnny snorted from his position next to the Irishman where he was sprawled out as gracelessly as a cat that had just fallen off a windowsill.

"Don't put too much on, Chet, or you'll make yourself soggy." The paramedic yawned expansively and stood up with a rather disturbing ripping sound as he left contact with the vinyl cushions. Over in the corner chair, Roy flinched.

"That sounded like it hurt, Johnny."

"Nah, not a bit," he replied jokingly. "I think I left all the nerve endings behind. Can't feel a thing." The rest of the day passed in a blurred mix of tedium and heat exhaustion until evening came- and with it, temperatures that were slightly more compatible with human life. Giving thanks to the good Lord above, the men of Station 51 were able to crawl into their bunks that night without any calls interrupting them. Well, until about one a.m. that was, which was when the tones sounded and broke all of them out of sweet dreams of Antarctica. Roy swung out of bed just like the others and had only pulled on one of his turnout boots before Sam's voice came over the intercom. It was a false alarm. They didn't actually have to go anywhere.

Now, by this point the unfortunate animal was rather sluggish and wholly sick of living inside a rubber boot that tasted like dirty socks and as Roy's other foot instinctively descended for that second boot it let out a rather grim hiss and nipped at his sock-covered big toe.

To say that Roy DeSoto screamed like a tiny little girl would have been a hilariously understated way of putting it. Johnny, whose bunk was straight across from him, leapt a good three feet into the air and then promptly dropped back down as one turnout boot sailed through the air a few inches over his head with a speed that would have made the Dodgers' pitcher go green with jealousy.

"Dang it, Roy, watch my head will you?!" he yelled. "And what the heck were you screaming about like that?" Anything Roy would have answered with was cut off by a long and enthusiastic string of curses from Cap's bunk. The errant boot, as it just so happened, had landed quite literally in his lap, forcibly deposing one very grumpy, very fed up garden snake entirely too close to certain parts of his anatomy for him to be entirely comfortable with the situation. Apparently he was into alliteration that night, because "DAMN IT, DESOTO!" seemed to feature prominently.

Roy went whiter than a sheet once he realized what he'd done and began babbling an apology that mainly involved "I swear to God I didn't know there was a snake in there Cap." By this time the other four men had figured out what had happened, and while Mike was able to retain a little bit of composure (not too much really, but enough) Johnny and Chet had already collapsed onto their bunks and curled up into balls of laughter and Marco wasn't far behind.

Mike hurried over to the Cap and, utilizing a skill exactly none of them knew he previously possessed, grabbed the now sorely pissed off snake out of the lap of the now sorely pissed off Cap by the back of its neck and tossed it unceremoniously out the front door. He made it back into the bunk room just in time to stop Cap from leaping the brick dividers and pummeling Roy into Pemmican. Once their gallant captain had gotten his wits back Mike retreated to his own bunk, caught one look at Cap's face and promptly began leaning on the divider for breath support. Cap's ears turned red.

"Is it really so humiliating that Stoker is going to laugh at me too?" he grumbled while everyone with the exception of him and Roy worked- largely unsuccessfully- on catching their breath. Roy barely caught the boot on its return throw, nearly dropping it on the floor until he realized that it was now, blessedly, snake free. Cap just flopped onto his bunk and lay there face down for a while before muttering, "Stoker, get the lights. The rest of you twits, can it and go back to sleep." They didn't hear another word from him until morning.

Eventually Johnny calmed down enough to lie still, and next to him in the now darkened fire station he could hear Roy muttering about throwing snakes at his captain and something along the lines of 'how stupid can you get?'. He giggled rather childishly and went back to sleep. At long last, Station 51 was calm and quiet. Outside, one thoroughly finished garden snake slithered off into the night. It was headed for the police station now.

When they woke up the next morning the men of the fire station chose rather tactfully to act as if the previous night hadn't happened, although Johnny and Chet had a hard time restraining their giggles and Roy and Cap found it nearly impossible to look one another in the eye. It was a few shifts after that when the heat wave broke and the threat of random snakes diminished, and Roy had just gone to change into his uniform. The others in the kitchen heard the sound of a locker opening, followed by one of the loudest yells they'd ever heard: "CHET KELLY YOU ARE GONNA PAY FOR THIS!"

It was the fastest they'd ever seen Chet run.