AN: A quick snippet of shenanigans because I'm bored and on a writing kick, and researching for my bigger projects is a pain in the ass. This is my excuse over researching California child custody laws.
Day of the Dead
They had known this day was coming from the moment that the coffee pot started rattling each morning, practically spitting out a pot of joe spitefully as it was worn thin. There was no telling just how many times it was run in a single day; outside of "The Gathering" each morning, in which every member on campus had between one and three decently sized mugs worth, there were still treadfulls of incidents when teammates came back for another mid-day cup, or three. Blade in particular held up a habit of evening-drinking - he didn't sleep anyway, and nightworking was something he preferred, since it was usually quieter and less stress-inducing. Usually.
July, however, put the caffeine laborer to the ultimate test. In that month alone, there were at least five whole cans of coffee grains downed, and with two of the base's residence being temporarily grounded as they recovered from recent injuries, one of which being an additional firefighter on base for training, there were even more daily go-backs than usual.
It was inevitable, but still overwhelmingly surprising to the team, the day the coffee pot died. It rattled and whined, and then finally after five minutes of attempting to finish the job, it gave up, with a loud 'clunk!' and a hiss of steam spewing out from the sides. It was done.
It was also the only one they had on base. And it had chosen to die that morning, before anyone had even gotten a cup out of it.
In a nutshell, all hell broke loose in the Piston Peak Air Attack.
Still half-asleep and starting on a cup of low-grade - yes, because alcohol in the morning is such a great decision - Maru tried to beat the old pot back together. But every part of it was too old and tattered, and practically fell apart the moment it was taken out. Slamming the thing on the desk, he finally gave up on it.
Go get a damn new one.." He grumbled to Blade, probably more snappy than he should've been, but no one was awake anyways. Saying that they needed anything 'new' was already breaking his lifelong code. The helicopter, just as half-asleep and seriously debating a can of one of those low-grades, just growled a reply and took off.
He was gone a couple hours. The nearest hardware store they knew of - and remotely trusted - was in Sacramento. Sending Blade was probably the best call because he didn't get lost in a store the way that Dipper did, and he didn't try to bargain for scrap items in the back like Maru. He also had everyone's best interests in mind when it came to finding a coffee pot that they could beat the ever living daylights out of. Nobody cared about making lattes with the thing anyways.
By the time he was back, most of the team was ready to murder each other, but surprisingly no fights had broken out – yet. Cabbie and Windlifter primarily were making sure of that.
Maru had the new coffee pot assembled in the kitchen quick and rather effortlessly - Blade suspected he was probably a little buzzed, but if he got the job done then he got it done - and finally they had their coffee pot back. Sort of.
It was a different model, and supposedly it had other features that nobody really cared about, but it was the most durable looking one and one of the more affordable, so no one could really complain. And they certainly couldn't complain after that first pot.
"I never knew straight black coffee could be so smooth…" Blade admitted.
"Makes you wonder what happened to it with the old one." Cabbie added.
Less than a week later, the machine was already up to making low rattling sounds, likely in irritation of the amount of teamates that doubled on their coffee-drinking numbers, but it wasn't meant for the air attack base if it wasn't a bit rattled anyways. It did its job, and as such it was respected for it, though they still beat the crap out of it.
Such is the life of a fire station coffee machine.