Some clarification: Apologies if I didn't make this perfectly clear, but this fic is completely unrelated to my others. If it was, I would have made note of it first thing. Sorry for any confusion this caused. (I was away all weekend, or else I would have made this update sooner.) If there are any other questions or concerns about this, please message me directly.

Also, I will be upgrading the rating to M in a few chapters. I will warn you the chapter before I do so. Again, please message me directly with any questions or concerns.

Warnings: mild language

Firemen tended to have mixed feelings about slow days, and Marco was no different. Slow days were nice because a guy could relax a little (once the station was cleaned within an inch of its life), but firemen didn't enjoy being bored. They certainly didn't enter their profession to lead an easy, calm life, more often than not preferred some good runs to get the heart pounding. Slow days were both a gift and a curse… especially when one of those bored firemen was The Phantom.

A loud yelp sounded from the latrine, though for once it wasn't Johnny. Instead, Marco heard Chet yelling and Johnny laughing, a nice twist on the usual events of the quiet firehouse. Johnny came loping into view chased by a sopping wet Chet with Hammer's voice bellowing after them, shouting about a freshly cleaned station and immaturity. Marco and Mike laughed together on the couch as the scene unfolded. They wouldn't be the ones cleaning it, after all.

Marco and Mike had become good friends in the four short months they'd been at Station 51, and Marco was quite sure he knew more about Mike Stoker than anyone else. Mike was single, no wife or girlfriend, and didn't really hit the dating scene too much. He placed first in the engineer's exam the first time he took it and still held the record for highest score. His favorite sports were hockey, football, and soccer, though he also enjoyed baseball but hated watching basketball. He'd eat damn near anything put in front of him, but he particularly enjoyed Mexican and Italian, which Marco thought was kind of funny, and the man made the best fried chicken and spaghetti with meatballs and lasagna and chocolate chip cookies. Mike liked all kinds of music, and preferred dramatic films over comedies but liked Westerns most of all. Most important of all, Mike liked to keep to himself.

No information really had to be wheedled out of Mike, but a guy had to ask a specific question to get the answer he was looking for. Marco actually waited a full month before asking any detailed questions about Mike's work history, sharing his own information in return. Mike had apparently been at 69s his whole career, from probie to lineman to engineer, which was fairly uncommon. Marco joined the department at eighteen, and in a little less than ten years had been at four different stations not including 51s. He enjoyed getting to know different people and apparatus, but now… 51s was different. Marco could honestly say he felt at home with these guys.

Marco just really liked everyone here, especially Mike. The two of them would hang out more often than not, watching sports or working on their vehicles or they'd go see a movie. They were known to be the best cooks at the station, so sometimes they'd get together to try out recipes on each other. Marco's two cats quickly became fond of Mike, easily falling for his quietude and gentleness. The fluffy beasts enjoyed nothing more than rubbing up on Mike's legs, earning themselves some good petting and scratching. Marco and Mike genuinely got along great. That's all there was to it.

Johnny came back into the rec room, grinning sheepishly. He opened his mouth, but Marco and Mike both cut him off with a, "No."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna-"

"No."

The paramedic began to pout at them, maybe thinking it would make them feel bad and get them to help him mop up. Hammer shouted in, "Gage! Get in here and clean up this damn mess!"

Johnny jumped and hurried off to do the captain's bidding while Marco and Mike grinned from the couch. They better not get toned out before he's done. Mike gave a quiet chuckle and said, "Man, if they get toned out before he's done, I'll make a new mess for him to clean when they get back."

Marco snorted, agreeing, "And I'll help," and returned to his book. Thankfully, there was some justice in the world, and Johnny had plenty of time to clean up before he and Roy got a run. Apparently, he snuck in and turned the shower on while Chet was cleaning it, resulting in a dripping Chet and a soaked latrine… and Johnny being switched to latrine duty for the rest of the shift. No one else had anything to do. They'd already hung hose, the station was spotless, and the squad and engine were sparkling.

"You wanna help me with dinner tonight?" Mike asked as evening rolled around.

"Yeah, it'll give something to do besides read the same page five times."

"Perfect. C'mon, we'll get started…"

The two worked in relative silence, occasionally pointing out where something was with a simple "Top drawer," or "left-hand cabinet," or "I need- yeah, thanks," that Marco knew left the others perplexed. Chet and Johnny seemed constantly in awe of Mike as an engineer and now of Marco and Mike's ability to communicate with minimal speaking. For the first two months, they did their best to avoid speaking to Mike altogether as if he were a genius in need of quiet time to think. Even Roy and Hammer only spoke to the engineer when necessary. Marco seemed to be the only one forged conversation with Mike for friendship.

"Here, Marco…"

"Hmm… maybe more cayenne."

"Yeah?... Yeah, thanks… garlic, too."

"Ooh, yeah… here… I'll check the fries."

"Here's the salt for 'em."

"…Perfect… let's toss the wings…"

"Yeah, that's the bowl there…"

Marco got to work on the pasta salad to go with their steak fries and hot wings. (Apparently, Mike got the recipe while at some fire engineering convention in Buffalo, NY.)

"You oughta bring these to the next firemen's picnic, Mike," Chet spoke up, "They're amazing."

"So you really do like 'em?" Mike asked.

"No, I've struggled force down fifteen of 'em."

"Oh, shut up, Chet. You know what I mean. They're really good?"

"Yeah, they're really good."

"These things are incredible!" Johnny agreed, mouth full of chicken "I've had twenty!"

"Maybe one day they'll have a contest on who can eat the most of these things-" Roy suggested, interrupted by Chet loudly stating, "- and Johnny would win! Hands down!"

"What're ya tryin' to say?"

"I'm tryin' to say you eat like an elephant! I've never seen someone so skinny who eats so much…"

The two of them fell into one of their friendly arguments. Marco caught Mike's eye and smiled across the table, a smile of reassurance, one that said, 'See, nothing to worry about. You did fine.' Mike's faint shrug and shy smile replied, 'Yes, but I have to worry sometimes. Keeps me honest.' Their gaze lingered a moment longer before they broke it off, maybe a moment longer than necessary… or proper.

xXxXx

The Giant Gila Monster was really a pretty bad flick, but for the late movie, it was alright. Nothing a little popcorn couldn't fix. Two bowls were making the rounds, though one had sat in Mike and Marco's possession for several minutes, each alternating handfuls as they watched the film. Mike could feel Marco at his side, his presence warm and pleasant as always. That was why he enjoyed being in the lineman's company so much.

Marco never had to force Mike to talk like so many others did. Mike genuinely enjoyed talking to Marco, felt like he actually listened to him rather than getting him to talk for talking's sake, like he didn't mind if Mike didn't speak at all during their time together. Even in their short time as friends, they'd spent more than one afternoon in companionable silence or with Marco doing the only speaking. Already they knew how to speak without words, to communicate with a look or a touch. Mike preferred it that way, actually. His family was quiet, so it was what he was used to.

There was a running commentary on the awful film coming from Chet, making fun of how campy it was, resulting in more than a few laughs over the course of the movie. Chet's a good kid. I like him. He's always trying to make people laugh. Anytime anyone seemed a little down, Chet was ready with a joke or a crazy story to cheer them up. Sometimes he went about it the wrong way, particularly as the Phantom. Mike wasn't sure whether or not Johnny knew Chet was the Phantom, Station 51's notorious prankster, and if he didn't, he was the only one who didn't know. In fact, Mike was the only to never have been pranked by Chet. Common sense dictated you didn't screw with the engineer, a man so mechanically-minded it was his job to operate the complex machinery and quickly come up with solutions to unpredictable problems.

The young lineman came off as goofy at first blush, with his roundish face and mass of dark brown curls and stocky build and blue eyes that could get almost comically wide. Sometimes his mouth could work faster than his brain, and he could say some pretty stupid things, but the kid was smart, that was for goddamn sure. Chet had clear aspirations of being an engineer one day and when he could speak to Mike in private, he asked all the right questions about the apparatus and pumps. He asked smart questions. Mike knew Chet would be a great engineer one day of he could only gain the confidence to take the exam and do well. He supposed they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Marco would make a good engineer, too. He could be one now, but he'd confessed he was happy as a lineman for the time being, plus there were others who could use the extra pay more than he. Marco was a single guy, after all, with no one depending on him but his two cats, so he didn't particularly need more money than he already earned. Maybe that's why I like him so much. He's unselfish. Marco Lopez would be the first to help someone out, to give you the shirt off his back. Maybe it was because he came from a big family. Sharing and being unselfish were pretty important when you were one of nine children in a fairly poor family.

It was the elder lineman who was the first to attempt friendship with Mike, right from their first shift, and from then on they'd been the best of friends. They just fit together so well, like a set of pipefittings. He and Marco liked the same things mostly, shared many of the same hobbies, liked a lot of the same music. Mike felt good when he was with Marco. He felt warm and calm and comfortable and happy. He'd never felt that level of ease with anyone before, though if truth be told, he'd never had a friend like this before. He was a shy, quiet child, then a shy, quiet teen, then a shy, quiet adult. He'd been close with his fellow fireman, especially with the first engineer he worked with, but no one had ever made him feel so… comfortable.

Mike fished around in the bowl for some more popcorn as the movie came to an end. His fingers brushed Marco's, warm and rough, and he jerked his hand back, not because he didn't like it… but because he did. Heat flooded into his face, and he thanked every deity he could think of that it was dark in the room. Marco leaned in, whispering, "Hey, amigo, are you alright?"

"Yeah… yeah, you just startled me, is all. Guess I'm a 'lil jumpy."

"Guess you are… jumped like a damn rabbit, man. You're sure you're okay?"

Mike just nodded. Dark brown eyes searched his face, trying to detect a lie and finding none. Hammer announced it was time for lights out, so the men of 51s began their nightly routines, working around the latrine and locker room in turns. Mike was the second one ready for bed after Hammer, and honestly he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. (It was a gift, really. Mike could fall asleep anywhere and in no time at all.) They didn't get a call all night, which was partly a welcome relief, but it left Mike with pent up energy he didn't normally have.

"Mike, you wanna come over later and hang out?" Marco asked.

"Hmm… maybe," he replied, "After shift I think I'm gonna head over to the Academy and run the track for a bit."

"Yeah? Mind if I join ya?"

"Sure thing, Marco… if you can keep up," he smirked.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?"

"Yeah, that's how it's gonna be."

Marco did keep up. They did a number of laps around the track together, totaling about five miles. Running was calming for Mike. He didn't really have to think about anything while he did it. Usually, he ran alone, worried a running partner would try to start a conversation or distract him, but Marco wasn't distracting. They almost moved in tandem, their individual footfalls blending into one sound as they made their way around the track. Mike even tried to purposely throw Marco off at one point at around the three-mile mark. He took off at a loping gallop, letting his long legs take the lengthy strides he knew they could, quickly pulling ahead of Marco by a few lengths. Marco broke into a sprint to catch up and stayed at Mike's side until they returned to a more leisurely pace, matching his footfalls once more. Amazing… it's amazing how well we work together.

Maybe he watched Marco's post-run stretches a bit too closely, but he just was drawn to the physique visible under Marco's t-shirt, to the fine musculature of his legs and arms, to the sheen of sweat over his rich brown skin. It's alright. It happens. People like to look at nice things… and Marco's pretty nice to look at. If he noticed those dark brown eyes doing the same as his own, he paid them no heed.