Warnings: some language, descriptions of injuries, some blood.

It had been an innocent remark, really.

"Hey, Marco, I was thinkin' of headin' to the beach for a couple days to do some fishin'. You wanna come?" Mike asked while they cleaned up the bay one afternoon.

"I'd love to, but I can't," Marco replied, "I was actually gonna look for some extra shifts… and probably another place to live."

"Really? How come?"

"Landlord just jacked up the rent big time. Rumor has it he's tryin' to sell to some developer so he wants everyone gone. A bunch of people already moved out, so now he says the rent went up 'cause he can't fill the openings."

"Isn't-? Isn't that illegal?"

"I dunno, probably, but it's too much fuss to deal with a lawyer at this point. It's just easier to move. Place was furnished, anyway, so at least I won't have that to move."

"Where ya gonna go?" Mike asked.

Marco shrugged and kept sweeping. Maybe Mike would mention an opening in his building, somewhere he could be closer to him, could spend more time with him.

"Would you wanna live with a roommate?" Mike queried after a moment.

"Maybe," Marco replied, "I'd need someone I'd get along with, though. I don't think I'd wanna chance it and end up with someone like Chet or Johnny."

Mike snorted at that, saying, "Yeah, I get the feeling they'd be difficult to live with."

"Living with them here doesn't tell you enough?"

There was another snort. They continued to sweep and mop for a few more seconds before Mike spoke up again, asking, "Any ideas on what you'd want in a roommate, Marco?"

Someone like you. He pretended to think about it for a moment and replied, "Well, definitely someone I get along with, like I said, someone who likes a lot of the same things I do… they should be neat and clean, or at least not a total slob… and they should definitely have a job and be able to pay rent and utilities. No bums."

"Would you-? No…" Mike muttered, color rising in his cheeks, "Nevermind, it's a stupid idea… "

"C'mon, what is it, Mike?"

"I just-… well, I was thinkin' maybe you could-… maybe you would wanna move in with me?" he said, sounding unsure of himself, "I mean, we get along so well already, and I wouldn't mind a roommate. Some two-bedrooms opened up in my building at a pretty good rate, so I was already kinda thinking of tryin' to go in on one with someone. They're really nice. Already furnished and everything, and my landlady's great."

That went even better than Marco could have dreamed. He had to stop himself from agreeing right away, from sounding too eager, but he was sure the delight showed in his face. He cleared his throat and answered, "That, uh-… that sounds like a good idea to me, Mike."

"Really?"

Oh, Mike, don't look so hopeful, so excited, so encouraged… not when I feel the same. Marco couldn't help but share the shy smile, telling him, "Really. I'd love to be your roommate."

He'd love to be more, but he couldn't say so aloud, no matter how agreeable he thought Mike would be to the situation. A man just couldn't be openly gay and a fireman. It never ended well. If the department didn't take professional issue with it, usually other firemen took it personally. Marco discovered early on that he found men and women equally attractive, though until now he'd never wanted to really act on his desires toward a man. Mike changed that. He changed everything. It was strange, to feel as though his whole world had turned on his head and yet for it to feel so right.

"Great," Mike replied softly, "Do you wanna come check 'em out tomorrow?"

"Nah, I trust you. You just let me know when I can move in. I can't wait to leave this damn building I'm in now."

"Why don't I phone my landlady now? I've had my eye on one I can ask her about, as long as you don't mind the sixth floor, that is."

"Sounds fine to me. The sooner the better."

Mike returned a few minutes later, grinning widely, saying, "Ol' Alice really likes me, that's for sure. She said we can move in whenever we're ready, and she even said she'd forgo our security deposit since I'm such a good tenant. She'll have a lease for us to sign in the next couple days."

"That's perfect. Man, I've had my stuff half-packed for a month."

"Well, how 'bout-? How 'bout you pack up all the way and we'll get you moved in, then I get all my stuff moved up once you're settled? We can get some of the guys to help, maybe."

"That sounds fine to me."

Marco couldn't keep the emotion off his face anymore. He knew he was wearing a big, silly grin, and he couldn't find it in himself to care.

xXxXx

That was pretty bold, much too bold, I think. I need to be more careful. Mike's feelings for Marco had only grown deeper in the recent weeks since the dinner at his parents'. He'd initially thought it a silly crush that would pass in time, but that was seeming to be less and less the case. Mike ached to be with Marco, and there wasn't even anything necessarily sexual behind it. The ache was in his heart, his soul, drew him in, was eased by mere proximity. That's not to say there wasn't a sexual component (as Mike had woken more than once from dreams of Marco either hard as a rock or with cum in his shorts), but it wasn't all-consuming. He dreamt, too, of simple things, of being curled up together on the couch or in bed, cooking meals together… maybe dancing, too. I think I'd like to dance with him.

Between both of them finishing packing and then getting everything transported where it belonged, they got moved in in about a week, thanks to help from Chet and Johnny.

"This was a very sudden move, y'know," Chet noted when all was said and done, beer in his hand, "Gotta say, I was a little surprised. So tell me, I gotta know… which one of ya is pregnant?"

Johnny snorted beer out of his nose, laughing and swearing at the same time. Marco spoke up, "I'm not sure it works like that, Chet."

"Oh, and you would know?"

"Well, I'm not stupid."

Chet and Johnny hung out with them until about four, leaving Mike and Marco to unpack themselves. Marco had insisted on Mike taking the larger room, so Mike did, though he secretly hoped Marco would eventually end up in there with him. Just living with him was enough for now, seeing him everyday, being around him almost constantly. For two weeks, things rolled along smoothly, as they always did.

He and Marco were just lounging in their apartment. They had planned on going to the beach, but the weather made other plans. Rain fell in buckets, lashing against the windows, wind howling. Power was out in patches across the county, and reports said their power would be out for maybe another twenty-four hours since it went out before they got home from the station. They'd both been soaked to the skin and stripped down to their shorts just inside the door. Mike felt goosebumps break out over his skin, and they were not simply from being chilly.

He shivered slightly at the memory of a nearly naked Marco and looked over at the other man. He lounged easily over the couch, wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt, reading one of the myriad copies of Fire Engineering Mike hung on to. He's never looked better. Mike was dressed much the same, perfect for laying around on a rainy day. They ate what they could out of the fridge, hoping the power would come back on before everything went bad. Unable to focus on his book, Mike looked around the room and let his eyes fall on the calendar.

"Hey, Marco, guess what day it is?"

"Umm… Wednesday?"

"Well, yeah, but something else, too," Mike said, and when Marco didn't reply except to raise his eyebrows, he continued, "It's been a year. Today it's been one whole year since our first shift at 51s."

Marco's face lit up, a warm smile settling there.

"Hey, that's right. I can't believe I almost forgot. Wow… it's hard to believe it's been a whole year since we've met."

Yes, that's the most important… us meeting was the most important.

"And what a year it's been."

Marco chuckled, then sobered a little, saying, "I meant it, Mike, when I said I was blessed to know you."

Mike found himself rising from the chair to sit by Marco on the couch. This apartment, their apartment, was a safe place. They could speak freely here, could be themselves without fear of judgment.

"And I meant it when I said I felt the same way. It's silly probably, but-… I-I feel like I've known you forever."

"I don't think it's silly. I, uh, I know what you mean," Marco replied softly.

Marco had sat up from his lounging position, arranging himself close to Mike, warm against his side. Mike's fingers twitched in his lap. He wanted so badly to touch Marco, to hold his hand, to put an arm around him, to rest his head on his shoulder. But I can't. He's not like that. There was no way Marco would ever want anything more than friendship from him. The warmth in his stomach turned cold and hard, settling itself in his gut. Mike swallowed against the lump in his throat and stated, "I'm hungry, I think. You want something for dinner? Wanna see what we can salvage from the fridge, Marco?"

"Umm, yeah… sure, I could eat."

He pretended that maybe he saw disappointment in Marco's face. It didn't really make it any easier on him. Still, he managed as the weeks went on. A little over a month passed.

The factory fire they were called to was a bad one from the start, with what was in the building, the number of employees working that day, and the poor structural status of the building. Mike could remember giving them citations not too long ago for a number of fire code violations. Marco had been there, too. He'd been upset when he discovered that most, if not all, of the employees in the shoddy textile factory were Mexican, and they told him how unsafe they felt. It was only a matter of time before the factory either closed or a disaster occurred. Unfortunately, it was the latter that came first.

"Alright, fellas, they need all hands inside for rescues," Cap informed them, "Everyone suit up in air masks, even you, Stoker. We're a rescue unit right now. Kelly, I want you with DeSoto, and I'll pair with Gage. It's better to have the paramedics split up for rescues. Lopez and Stoker, that means you'll be a pair. Let's get this done and stay safe."

A kind of thrill ran through Mike as he pulled on his air bottle and mask. Engineers didn't really get to be in the shit too much. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd actually gone in to face the beast since his promotion, and he was kind of excited. He and Marco went in, immediately facing thick, black smoke. They passed hose teams from other stations, saw the glow of the flames on the far side of the building, heard the roar. Mike pushed the sound away. The only sounds he needed to hear were the cries of victims and the voice of his partner. By the looks of it, I'd say about three-quarters of the workers made it out, but that still leaves maybe fifty people unaccounted for. That was a lot of people to rescue.

Moving debris got some fifteen people out from behind some machinery where they'd been trapped. More were rescued from a few offices, which left about seventeen trapped on the factory floor. Reports came in over the H/T that Cap and Johnny were taking victims out, as well as Chet and Roy, though they had found three dead. That leaves… five. There are still five people trapped. Mike tapped Marco on the shoulder and pointed toward the factory floor. Marco nodded and led the way. The smoke was beginning to thin, flowing out through vent holes in the roof. That was good. It was easier to see now.

They found a body, the head almost completely severed by a piece of metal, and Mike called it in so they could move on. Many things happened at once. The roof groaned loudly overhead. The captain from 127s came on the H/T ordering everyone out of the structure. Mike located a victim, a terrified and bleeding Latina woman he could easily free from some debris. There was a thunderous crash behind them as part of the roof came down. Marco turned, wide-eyed as Mike handed over the female victim and told him to go. He knew there was someone else there. 127s ordered the retreat again, but Mike kept digging.

The roof came down with a guttural, crashing shriek. Mike barely had time to throw himself over the victim, shielding him from the worst of the cave-in. Stabbing pain shot through the outside of his right thigh, causing him to cry out. His ears were ringing, and it was a moment before he registered that someone was calling him over the H/T. He fumbled for it, answering in a tight voice, "S-Stoker here. I'm- uh, I'm trapped un-under some debris."

"Is there anyone with you?" Cap's voice asked.

"Yeah, I-I have one victim," Mike replied, groping for a pulse, "Shit… the victim- I can't find a pulse. He-He's dead."

"Just stay where you are, pal," Cap told him, "I've got people comin' in for ya. Can you give me your location in there? Are there any landmarks?"

"I-I dunno, Cap… I'm facedown… an-and I'm injured. My righ-right leg hurts real bad."

His thigh throbbed violently, but he didn't dare try to look at it or touch it. His heartbeat was fast, born of fear and pain, fueled by adrenaline, and he felt nauseous. He couldn't be sure how much time passed before he heard voices that were actually there and not over the radio. (He had occupied himself by going over emergency protocol for his engine in his head.)

"Roy! Cap! Marco! I found Mike! He's over here! He's-! Holy shit…"

Johnny's words were not promising. He heard the others approach, heard their similar reactions.

"I-I don't suppose someone would t-tell me what's goin' on?" Mike asked, trying to sound unaffected but only sounding shaky.

No one answered, simply started to dig Mike out. They're not really making me feel any better. Is it really that bad? Fuck, is my leg even still there? Scenario after horrifying scenario paraded through his mind, each worst than the last, sending his heart rate skyrocketing. Someone got down beside him, and Mike immediately recognized the warmth. Marco's eyes were wide and worried as he asked shakily, "Are you okay, Mike?"

"I-I-I guess so… Marco, what's go-goin' on? Please tell me what's wrong. Please. A-am I gonna-"

"No," he replied instantly, "No, Mike, you're not gonna die."

"Then tell me what's wrong."

"It-… It's not pretty. There's a piece of rebar piercing your leg. Looks like it impaled it, actually."

Mike's stomach rolled. That's never happened before… but at least I'm not dying… Marco wouldn't lie to me. He would tell me the truth. Roy called down the shallow hole, "Marco, you better stay with him there. We've gotta cut this rebar some to get him outta here. I'm gonna send Johnny in with the cutters. Just a minute…"

"Okay, Roy, but hurry up."

"Marco, I'm gonna need a hand," Johnny said upon arrival, "I need you to steady that rebar. I don't want it shiftin' inside his leg when I cut. Mike… Mike, I'm sorry, man, I really am, but this ain't gonna feel good."

Should I have something to bite down on? The thought came too late. As soon as Marco touched the rebar, Mike screamed, an almost inhuman sound ripping from his throat. He clenched his jaw, sure he was about to break all his teeth. Thinking quickly, he pulled off one of his gloves and turned it inside out, shoving into his mouth and biting down, hoping it would stifle any noise he made. He knew as soon as Johnny started cutting the pain would be worse, so much worse, and he was right. He may have blacked out, he couldn't be sure, but when Johnny finished cutting, Mike was left sweating and shaking, his breathing ragged, his stomach rolling. He threw up when they moved him, and that time, he definitely blacked out.

Mike came to in Rampart, blinking in the bright, sterile light. His brain felt fuzzy, probably from painkillers or anesthesia.

"How ya feelin', tiger?"

His gaze focused on the blonde nurse.

"Hiya, Miss McCall. I guess 'm alright. 'Lil foggy…"

"Well, that's to be expected. You had a hard day, Mike. You remember what happened?"

"Ye-yeah. We were at th' textile factory on a run," Mike replied slowly, his words slurring from the fogginess, "Place was crazy, kep' gettin' fire code vi'lations an' hired these poor kids righ' outta Mexico. Umm… me an' Marco were workin' rescue i'side. Cap'n Mason from 127s called ev'ryone out, but… but I didn' go. I found a victim righ' then, so I tried to get 'im out, bu-but he was dead already. 'pparently I ended up with some rebar through m'leg when the roof caved in."

"Yes, and you're lucky you're up to date on your tetanus shot. That rebar was filthy. You feeling alright now? Any pain?"

He shook his head, and Dixie smiled, "Good. Think you're up to having some visitors?"

Mike agreed, readying himself for the onslaught that was his team. The whole 51s crew hung around for maybe an hour, needing to wait for Mike's replacement anyway, filtering out until only Marco was left. He's upset. I know it. I can tell. Marco stood awkwardly by the bed, as if he were unsure whether to stay or leave. Mike shifted carefully against his pillows, telling Marco, "C'mon, man, sit. You're makin' me nervous."

He didn't move.

"Marco, please… 'm okay. You heard ev'ryone say so. C'mon, sit wi' me… please."

It seemed like not long ago their positions had been reversed, that Marco had been laying in a hospital bed with Mike feeling guilty and shy.

"Why did you do that, Mike?"

"Do what?"

"You disobeyed the order to leave the structure," Marco said, "You gave me the victim you had, and then you stayed when Capt. Mason ordered us out. You heard the roof was ready to go, you had to, but you stayed. Why?"

"There was 'nother victim. I could see 'im trapped there but couldn' reach 'im," Mike explained, "I couldn' jus' leave 'im there if he needed help… 'course turns out I was too late…"

"That wasn't your fault, Mike. It wasn't your fault. That guy was dead when you got to him. Between the smoke and the heat and his injuries, he didn't stand a chance."

"How many died total?"

"I think the last count was… uh, fourteen? Chet and Roy had brought out a couple critical cases that bit it later… so did some guys from 10s… plus the bodies they found during clean-up. There's a few people here in Rampart that are critical they're worried about, too," Marco answered matter-of-factly.

Facts. It was easier to think of things like this in terms of facts or a guy could go nuts. Marco's tone darkened, "I hope the pendejo who ran that place gets locked up for murder. I talked to some of the victims, and from what they said, that place could've been the next Triangle Fire. I didn't think places could operate like that anymore, but I guess when you only hire scared, poor, Mexican kids who don't hardly speak English, how are they supposed to complain?"

"They'll get justice, Marco. I know it. This'll be a big, national story. People'll take notice."

Mike reached out, trying to touch Marco, to comfort him. Marco took his hand. Mike could see he was shaking finely and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"I was scared, Mike… really scared."

"So was I."

Marco opened his mouth to speak, but Dixie came in and shooed him out to check on Mike and give him some more painkillers. Mike went home two days later, glad to know Marco would be there for him for a few days. Marco helped him into their apartment and settled him on the couch, where Mike promptly fell asleep.

xXxXx

"This was a close one, Mike," Marco said to his friend when he woke up and got something to eat.

"You don't hafta tell me…"

"I was terrified," he admitted, "I got that girl out and turned around and I saw the roof come down and you weren't behind me so I knew you were still in there an-and-… I was just so scared, Mike. I-… I was afraid I-I'd lost you. For good. Then I heard you over the radio… then we went in, and I saw that rebar sticking through your leg… I wish I didn't have to hurt you like that, but it was the only way to help."

"I know that. I know you had to."

"Yeah, I had to, but I didn't want to. The way you screamed when I-" Marco shuddered at the memory, "I've never been so scared, Mike. Never in all my life."

He pulled in a deep breath. This was a leap of faith he was about to take, a leap into a big, dark hole where he didn't know what was at the bottom, where he could find beauty or death. He sat close to Mike on the couch and spoke again, his voice low, heat in his face.

"I don't wanna lose you, Mike. You're the best friend I've ever had. I've never been closer to anyone in my life than I am with you, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I can say, without a doubt, that I care more about you than I do anyone else, even more than some people I'm related to. I saw that metal sticking outta your leg and you were bleeding and-… and I thought that was it. I thought you were dead."

"You told me I wasn't gonna die," Mike said.

"I know. I needed to believe it. I needed to make myself believe it because the alternative was just too horrible to think about," he murmured, carefully taking one of Mike's hands in his own, "Especially-… especially when-…"

Take a deep breath. It's time for the plunge. Like diving in a cenote, I'll find inexpressible beauty or I'll drown alone in the dark… maybe both at once. His thumb stroked over the back of Mike's hand, over the bruise left by the IV. His heartbeat quickened, a flush blossoming over his chest and up his neck into his face. Mike's eyes were wide and bright and so very blue, like when the sunlight hit the clear cenote water. There was a bit of color in his cheeks, his lips slightly parted. Mi angel… mi hermoso angel… I pray you'll be there for me when I jump.

Marco leaned in and brushed his lips over Mike's, a touch they could barely feel. He pulled back. Mike's expression hadn't changed. That's it. I fucked it all up, fucked it up six ways from Sunday. Marco muttered, "I-I just-… I feel like we've been dancing around each other the whole time we've known each other… lots of shy smiles, little touches, things like that. Maybe… maybe I thought-… thought there was more there than there was, than there is, but… but I had to go for it. I didn't wanna waste anymore time, Mike… didn't wanna waste my time with you."

He could feel his pulse beating through his veins. When Mike didn't speak, Marco continued, rising to his feet, "I'll leave as soon as I can. I'll move back home an-and I'll put in a transfer and you-you'll never hafta-"

"No."

Mike squeezed Marco's hand tightly, keeping him from walking away. His blue eyes were still wide but now a little fearful. He whispered, "Please, Marco… I don't want you to go. I-I-… come sit again, would ya? I'm not up to standin' right now."

Marco slowly obeyed, guided by Mike's hand to sit as close as before. Their fingers were twined. A strange pressure settled in his chest, strange but not bad. It was one that made it clear everything in the world was right, that time had been wasted when it shouldn't have been. Mike spoke again, his voice low and quiet, "You're right. You're a hundred percent right. Marco, we have absolutely been dancin' around, pretending we don't feel like we do. I know I was doin' it 'cause I was scared: scared of feelin' that way, scared 'cause it was you, scared you wouldn't feel the same way even though part of me knew you did… scared now 'cause I know you feel the same. Please, I don't want you to leave, Marco. I don't ever want you to leave."

The blue eyes were shining with tears now. Marco inched closer, mindful of the fresh wound in Mike's leg, casting his gaze down to the injured thigh. Mike was due to start rehab and PT next week, would return to work in a month or so like nothing ever happened. I almost lost him, though. Mike inched closer and rested his forehead on Marco's, sighing quietly. Marco's eyes slipped shut. A rough palm came up to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek. He felt his heart rate slow down, no longer racing, like he knew this was where he was supposed to be.

xXxXx

Mike felt his racing heart calm as he pressed his forehead to Marco's, as he cupped the warm, brown cheek. He was stunned when Marco leaned in and brushed his lips over his. Something in him had always known Marco felt the same, but he hadn't dared to hope, preferred their awkward dance to maybe finding out he was wrong and ruining what they had.

"I won't leave, Mike," Marco whispered, "I promise."

"You can't promise that, and I can't make you promise that. In our job, we don't know if that's the case. We could die at any minute of any day," he murmured.

"Then I promise to never leave if I can help it. That much I can promise you."

He looked into Marco's eyes, those deep brown irises with the faint golden hue, the long, dark lashes framing them.

"You really promise, Marco?"

"Yeah, I really promise."

"Would-? Would you seal it with a-a kiss?"

Marco let out a huff of a laugh, smiling quietly. He mirrored Mike's position, cupping Mike's cheek, and tipped his chin. Their lips met softly. Mike did not feel fireworks or sparks or electricity. He felt peace. He felt right. He felt like he'd been missing this his whole life. Marco's lips were chapped and warm, slowly moving against his. Happy butterflies filled Mike's stomach as he kissed back, their lips sliding together, noses bumping. His hand slipped around to the back of Marco's neck, and he let his fingers toy with the dark hair, rub gently at his scalp. Marco's thumb stroked along his cheekbone, his other hand coming up to hold Mike's face.

He was gentle, so incredibly gentle, mindful of Mike's injury, of this being their first kiss. The thought made Mike smile, and he felt Marco return the expression. Marco caught his lip and sucked on it, pulling a soft moan from Mike, who placed his free hand just above Marco's knee for balance. One day soon, he would touch Marco's bare skin, would touch him all over, would taste every inch of him, but for now… for now he was content to simply kiss him, to feel his lips on his own.

They pulled apart after a few short moments that felt like an hour, foreheads touching once more, both slightly breathless, both smiling.

"I call that promise sealed," Mike whispered, "Not bad for our first kiss."

Marco hummed in agreement and replied, "Let's see what we can do with the second…"