Warnings: Mild language, sexual content

Marco was exhausted. Brush fires were always exhausting, and he wished he knew why. Maybe it was the nonstop nature of the work, being outdoors, the added anxiety of a truly unpredictable blaze. Worse, the officials were sure this one was deliberate on some level. The burnt out shell of a car had been found in the woods where they thought the fire started. Someone had obviously tried to dump evidence of some kind of crime or simply thought it would be funny. It won't be funny if we find a body somewhere. He'd done that before, stumbled upon a charred corpse in the middle of a fire maybe two or three times, and it had been horrible every time.

Station 51 caught a break around four, having been on scene since about eight. Marco gratefully ate the sandwich offered him at the aid station, eating with alarming speed and sucking down the cold water as fast as he could. It wasn't enough, but it would do for now. It would have to. He looked around at his shiftmates. Chet and Johnny, like him, had already devoured their sandwiches and water, looking forlornly at the empty cups and wrappers. Mike, Roy, and Cap had managed to pace themselves and were on their last bites. They all sat around the engine and squad, listening to the radio chatter, praying their respite would last a bit longer, happy to breathe fresh air for the time being.

"Squad 51… Report to Engine 43, north exposure. Report of an injured fireman…"

Johnny and Roy shared a look, and Marco knew they were hoping it wouldn't be too bad. Injured firemen could run the gamut from almost comical to life-threatening, and even that could change in a hurry. The four remaining firemen sat in the shade of the engine, relaxing while they could.

"Engine 51, respond with Squad 51 to Engine 43's Code I, north exposure," the dispatcher relayed calmly, "Engine 43 is also reporting a missing fireman."

"Engine 51, KMG-365," Cap replied.

The men wearily got to their feet, quickly climbing into their places on the engine. Marco heard the engine rumble into life, heard Mike put her in gear. He and Chet pulled their turnouts on reluctantly. The day wasn't hot, actually felt somewhat cool for May, but Marco and the others were still sweating profusely as they battled the flames. Mike hit the sirens as they sped off toward the Code I on the north exposure of the fire.

Heading back into the action, smoke filled Marco's nose once more, sat heavy at the back of his throat. He rocked in his seat along the unpaved road, letting his body sway with the engine, and turned to look at the driver. Mike sat as upright as possible in the seat, looked straight out the windshield, guided the engine to her destination. He turned back and looked out over the fire. The blaze was largely contained, and the hardest job now was just extinguishing it completely. Marco sighed, coughed a little, felt grit in his mouth.

Engine 43 was waiting for them, along with Roy and Johnny, who were putting their gear on.

"It's Brice," Roy explained, "He went in after someone, and the other fireman came out but not Brice. They never met up, and no one's heard from Brice in a while."

Something clenched in Marco's gut. This north exposure had been troublesome, kept spotting, had no protection from the wind that kept shifting unexpectedly. Craig Brice could very well be dead in there. Marco shook the thought out of his head. I can't think like that. Brice was too smart to be dead. Surely, if he'd been in danger, he'd have figure something out. The young paramedic generally got on everyone's nerves, but no one wanted anything bad to happen to him. He felt Mike step up beside him and looked up at him.

Mike was an anomaly in that he genuinely rather liked Brice. The young paramedic was generally considered too odd to be 'normal' and was found to be kind of abrasive. Perhaps it was because Mike was quiet and a good listener that Brice felt comfortable around him. They didn't hang out on their days off or anything, but they did get along.

"I've already called in the chopper," 43's captain told them, "It's gonna be rough in there without enough water if something flares up again, and I don't know how far away that tanker is."

The men of 51s hummed in agreement. The tank on their engine could only pump at full capacity for maybe five minutes before it went dry, and it was nowhere near enough to fight what could crop up. They all wanted to charge in, wanted to find Brice and bring him out, but the situation needed assessment. The muffled thup-thup of chopper blades reached Marco's ears. Everyone looked to the southern horizon. Marco heard indistinct radio chatter, watched the chopper empty its tank over the scene, saw it circle over the area.

"Alright," Capt. Ramos said, "Copter 2 says they think the fire is all out, only saw one hotspot and extinguished it. No sign of Brice, though."

"We'll find him," Johnny assured him, "We'll bring him back."

"Good. Kid's annoying as hell, but God help me, I would miss him."

Copter 2 called in another confirmation of a clear scene, and both 43s and 51s headed into the scorched forest in search of their comrade.

xXxXx

Johnny and Roy decided to split up, as did the other paramedic from 43s. If they were all clumped up together, they might as well not be there at all. By splitting up, they could cover more ground, effectively could be multiple places at once. Johnny's long legs carried him over the charred debris of the forest floor, ears listening attentively for the telltale crack of wood overhead that would alert him to a falling limb. That happened to him once, broke four of his ribs.

He listened also for Brice's voice, for a call for help, a cry of pain. A haze of smoke hung in the air as he pulled off his air mask. Woodsmoke sat in his nose and throat, lightly burning but not unpleasant. Johnny paused and looked around. Everything around him was black and charred. Think. Look for anomalies. What doesn't belong? He looked for the tan turnouts of LA County, the black helmet, the yellow air tank. He sought any signs of life and movement, just as he'd been trained to do. Muffled shouts of Brice's name sounded around him, all seeking the lost paramedic.

Why did he do it though? Johnny knew why he ran headlong into dangerous situations. He was kind of reckless, and if he did it, Roy didn't have to. Brice wasn't reckless… but Brice could also read a situation. His partner had a family, as did the missing fireman. Shit, I woulda done the same thing. He almost wanted to laugh.

He stopped again in the middle of a small clearing, turning, looking, listening. There would be a clue. There had to be. Frustration and fear mingled in his stomach. He cast a careful gaze around himself, around the clearing. A pile of debris caught his attention. Johnny approached it carefully, mindful that it could be a wounded animal of some sort under there, steadied his breathing. The pile shifted almost imperceptibly. He wet his lips and reached out.

Johnny jumped like a jackrabbit, letting out an undignified noise and series of curses, as the debris pile scattered with a yelp. Brice jerked away violently, suddenly stilled, blinked owlishly. Johnny was sure he looked much the same.

"Gage? Is-? Is that you?"

"Yeah… yeah, it's me, Brice," he answered shakily, "You okay-"

If it were anyone else, Johnny would have laughed and brushed it off. After all, plenty of people, even firemen, were given to hugging when rescued. Brice, however, was not one of those people. He was quiet, withdrawn, didn't like excessive shows of even friendly affection. It was understandable, therefore, that Johnny was extremely surprised when Brice threw his arms around him and held tight. A beat passed before Johnny responded, holding Brice in turn, feeling him shaking.

"Hey," Johnny said quietly, "C'mon, pal, you're alright now. I got ya… You're safe now…"

"I thought… I was certain I was going to die," Brice murmured, "I thought-"

"We wouldn't let that happen. You're not gonna die."

"I thought no one would come for me."

Johnny barely heard the words, barely believed he actually heard them correctly. Brice continued in the same nearly inaudible tone, "I thought since no-no one likes me, no one w-would come for me… tha-that I would be left-"

"Stop that," Johnny told him firmly, gently, "Just-Just stop thinkin' like that. We would never leave you behind, okay? Never in a million years."

He tightened his arms around the younger man as Chet approached. Fear and sadness clouded the brightness of his eyes. The lineman whispered, "Is that-? Is he-?"

"He's alive, Chet. Here… help me out, man… call Cap, would ya?... Great, c'mere… let's get him outta here so I can check him over better…"

Brice's knees buckled slightly when they pulled him to his feet, but he managed to regain his footing and allowed himself to be led back to the apparatus. He leaned heavily on Johnny the whole way. If Chet was confused or surprised, he said nothing, something for which Johnny was extremely grateful. Everyone was waiting for them back at the apparatus.

"There you are!" Capt. Ramos exclaimed, "What happened, Brice?"

Brice opened his mouth to reply, but Johnny spoke instead, saying, "You can tell the story later, pal. For now, be quiet and let me look you over."

"No… No, I-I'm fi-"

A hacking cough stopped him, made him double over, made Johnny raise an eyebrow. He carefully led Brice over to Squad 51, forcing him to sit.

"Here, lemme put the ox- Don't be like that, Brice. Lemme put the oxygen on you… There you go… You know the drill. Just breathe. I'm gonna take your vitals…"

Brice was still shaking finely. Johnny pretended not to notice the two clean streaks on Brice's sooty face as he tended to him, carefully checking and rechecking the other paramedic's vitals.

"Hey, Brice, I really think you oughta go to Rampart," Johnny said quietly.

Brice shook his head, told him, "No, I'm fine," pulled off the oxygen mask, promptly leaned sideways and vomited. Johnny moved just in time. He knelt by the younger man as he heaved, rubbing his back soothingly until he stopped.

"I want you to go to Rampart."

"I-… I agree," he rasped.

"Good. Wait here a minute…"

He jogged over to Roy and Cap, told them, "I wanna take Brice to Rampart."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Cap said, "Take the squad down to the staging area and we'll meet you there, Gage."

"You gonna ride with him in the ambulance?" Roy asked.

"I think I should, yeah. He was, uh… he was pretty shook up."

"Okay. You ride in with him, and I'll meet you there in the squad."

Thankfully, Brice was where Johnny left him. He drove as carefully as possible, not wanting to jostle his patient too much. At least he's not urgent. That could get messy.

xXxXx

Brice was fidgeting by the time he was loaded into the ambulance. The fear and anxiety were finally wearing off, leaving him tired and ready to go home. Ideally, he'd like to simply go back to work. A series of hacking coughs ripped through his lungs and throat, however, and he knew work would not be an option for some time. Gage was very polite, helped him sit up, held the oxygen mask for him. Brice was not used to such care, not where he was concerned.

He would never say his childhood was bad, not with some of the things he's seen in his career, but it was far from ideal. Craig Brice was a middle child, loved by his parents but certainly the least loved of his siblings. Odd, too quiet until he was too talkative, too smart for his own good, he retreated into medical books and journals. He was left to his own devices most of the time, left to handle cruel words and harsh bullies on his own, left to figure out how to defend himself.

"Hi, Brice… Johnny here tells me you're not having a red letter day."

He looked to Dr. Early, taking in the kind, gently teasing countenance of the older doctor, and carefully shook his head. Early smiled, said, "I can tell. Are you hurting anywhere?"

"My back," he rasped after a moment, "Something-… something fell and struck me."

"Then let's have a look at it. Johnny, would you help me? I just need to get his coat and shirt off… Yeah, that'll work… Perfect, now let's have a look- oh dear… You certainly were struck…"

Of course I was struck. I would not lie about something like that. Brice cleared his throat, coughed for a moment, asked, "Gage… would you describe it for me? The injury?"

"Sure, I guess I can… umm, well, it-it's a pretty big bruise, Brice…stretches all the way from the left shoulder almost to the right hip… about six inches wide, maybe a 'lil more. Looks like a tree branch to me. Everything feel okay? Ribs feel okay and everything, I mean?"

"I believe so. I don't have any abdominal tenderness or pain in my chest."

"That's good, then. Cracked ribs are the worst. Trust me."

"Johnny's right. Alright, Brice, I'm gonna listen to your lungs now. You don't want pneumonia or worse setting in. Has the oxygen been helping?"

"Yes, quite a bit."

Brice pulled in a deep breath, or at least he tried to. He started coughing again. Gage squeezed his shoulder gently in a gesture of solidarity. Brice was quite unused to it. He tended to alienate himself, though he never did it on purpose. People were just put off by him, by his excess of knowledge and information and desire to speak of them to other people. He tried to make friends. It just never worked. Brice flinched when Early pressed the stethoscope to his back, touching the bruised flesh as gently as possible. Gage's fingers tightened against his bare shoulder.

It's cold in here… always too cold. He shivered slightly, wondered when he could put his shirt back on. Brice felt very exposed. I want to go home. Early stepped back, adopted a calm smile, told him, "I don't like your lung sounds very much, Brice. I'd like to keep you overnight for observation, just to make sure nothing goes wrong. There might be internal injuries that haven't manifested yet."

"But I feel fine, doctor. I-"

"Shut up, kid, and listen to Early. You know he's right."

Brice sighed. Yes. I do. He let his body sag, a sign of defeat he knew they would recognize. Gage sat with him in the treatment room while they waited for a bed in recovery. The rest of 51s came in with him not long after, all milling about to check on him. The men of 43s did not come. Brice swallowed down the hurt feelings, just as he always did. This was no different from any other time. Stoker stepped up to speak with him while Gage stepped away.

"How are you feelin', Brice?" Stoker asked quietly.

"Fine, I suppose. I'm not able to breathe too well, and I have a substantial contusion on my back that hurts, but I'm largely uninjured."

"Good. That's good. We were worried about you, y'know. You did a dangerous thing, when you tried that rescue. You coulda been hurt a lot worse."

"I know. The risk seemed worth it at the time… still does seem worth it."

Stoker's smile was soft and gentle and warm, so unlike what he was used to.

"You're a good man, Brice," he said after a moment, "We should tell you more often."

Brice had to look away. He didn't want Stoker to see the tears in his eyes.

xXxXx

"Ugh, I'm beat," Mike grumbled as he and Marco finally stumbled into their apartment.

Marco was too exhausted to reply. The fire had kicked back up after Brice's injury, and the remaining firemen had been pushed to their limits. There was not a part of Marco's body that didn't hurt after almost three full days at the brush fire; he knew Mike was the same. Both took showers at the station to remove the worst of the dirt and grime, neither wanting to track it into their home.

"I dunno about you," Marco said, "but I could use a hot bath right about now. Things hurt I didn't even know I had."

"Same… a hot bath sounds amazing."

It was a tight fit, but the two men managed to get into the bath together, Mike's back pressed to Marco's chest. Marco sighed contentedly. His lover's body was a warm, comforting weight. He carded his fingers through the still-damp brown hair, gently massaging and stroking. His other hand rested against Mike's chest, brown against white. A pleasant buzz began to fill his body, Mike's fingers teasing their way along his calves and thighs.

Marco's hand slid over Mike's chest, and he let his thumb slowly work a pink nipple. Mike made a soft noise, dropped his head onto Marco's shoulder, briefly gripped his thighs. It felt very good indeed. Marco went to task kissing the beautiful neck he'd been presented, letting his lips and teeth and tongue work in perfect concert. They were a distraction, a perfect distraction. Mike moaned low in his throat, focused on Marco's lips rather than the hand that was no longer in his hair. Marco moved on to Mike's shoulder, gently bit and laved it with his tongue as his right hand wrapped around Mike's cock.

There was a soft gasp in his ear, and Mike pressed back against his body. Perfect…

"Mm… I've got you right where I want you," Marco murmured against the shoulder, "Got you all warm and soft…"

"I won't be soft for long, not if you keep this up."

"Yeah?"

He fixed his lips to Mike's neck once more, this time working his way around to his lover's lips, delighting in their pliant eagerness. Mike's cock quickly stiffened in his hand, responding to his slow, methodical strokes. He moaned into Marco's mouth. Marco swallowed it down, nipping gently at Mike's lips. His left hand still stroked Mike's chest, still took special care to tease at his sensitive nipples. Though his legs were bracketed in by Marco's, Mike let them fall open as best he could.

"Please, babe…I-I need more," Mike moaned, "Go faster…"

"No… I'm gonna bring you off just like this, nice and slow and easy. You worked so hard the last few days, and I think you deserve something very, very nice, mi amor."

Marco continued his careful ministrations, pumped gently, twisted ever so slightly on the upstroke, just as he knew Mike liked. He looked down along his lover's body. Mike's thighs twitched against his, the muscles of his belly shivering as he tried not to move too much. Breathy moans escaped his throat, his breath warm against Marco's ear. Marco returned his attention to Mike's throat, and he felt the other man's moan rumble through his chest.

"I know I tell you all the time," Marco whispered huskily, "but you're so fuckin' beautiful… so perfect… I can't believe you're mine… all mine…"

"Ye-Yes, Marco… all yours…"

"I love takin' care of you like this… I love watching you fall apart… love makin' you feel so safe and loved. I love you so much, Mike, mi amor, mi tesoro… I would do anything for you, anything you asked. I would kill for you, die for you… anything… all for you…"

Mike did not respond, was perhaps incapable of coherent speech at the moment. His hands gripped at Marco's thighs very close to his buttocks, fingertips pressing into his flesh. Marco knew he was on the edge, could feel it as if it were his own body. He kissed along the stubbled jaw, murmured in his ear, "Mi querido… mi hermoso ángel… cum for me… let go… let me see you cum for me, baby…"

A loud groan rumbled through Mike's body. Marco felt it against his chest. He felt Mike's cock twitching in his hand, felt it slicked with hot cum, felt Mike's hips stutter. Mike slumped against his chest, limp and sated, a lazy grin on his face.

"You're incredible," he sighed.

Marco chuckled and nudged at Mike's cheek. Mike obliged him, turning and pressing his lips to Marco's in a gentle kiss. Marco's own cock was still hard and aching, but he could ignore it for the time being, focused on the perfection of Mike's mouth.

Shortly thereafter, both men exited the tub, and Marco's erection was readily apparent. Mike smirked. Oh, I'm in for it now. He gently toweled off Marco's body, careful to avoid his groin, clearly had something special in mind. Even that simple act was almost enough to put him over the edge. Mike led him into their bedroom, gently pushed him onto the bed, straddled him.

"It's my turn to take care of you," Mike told him softly, "I'm gonna take real good care of you…"

He wasted no time, putting his lips around Marco's cock and swallowing him to his base. Marco cried out. His hips bucked of their own accord. Mike let him go, let him fuck up into his mouth, and when Marco came (almost taking him by surprise), Mike swallowed it all. The only trace of cum was a thin, white trickle of liquid at the corner of his mouth. Mike crawled up and kissed him slowly, and Marco would've gotten hard again at the taste of himself in Mike's mouth if he wasn't so exhausted. The two of them slept soundly for almost the entire day.