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Onto part three…
Not even the broken coffee maker could ruin your mood.
A permanent smile has been on your face for the whole morning, to the confusion of the rest of the house. While everyone else grumbles over their deprivation of caffeine, you feel more awake and energetic than usual. The only one who gives you a smile in return is Mike, who knows how excited you are.
You've been asking for weeks, and finally, Santana agreed to let you give her a tour of the firehouse. She was hesitant, at first, because she knows how much your house means to you, and you've only been dating for a month. But you know she's excited, she's told you as much, when you promised that you'd put on your gear for her.
You don't have a label, not yet. You're content with the routine that you've found with her. You go to her bar after every shift. If it's not busy, Santana makes you a drink and you talk, about everything and nothing, until she finishes work at ten. On the busy nights you're content to just watch her work, making small talk with the people next to you, as she gracefully moves around the bar and tends to the crowd.
During the weekends, you've been taking each other on dates and exploring the city. You've discovered that despite both having lived in New York for several years, neither of you have properly visited the tourist attractions.
The two of you take the water taxi out to the Statue of Liberty one day, wearing sunglasses and overpriced foam liberty crowns. You go to Central Park to visit Strawberry Fields and have a picnic by the reservoir, where you feed your sandwich crusts to the ducks (at Santana's insistence, after you tell her that they're your favorite animal). Another day, you go to the top of the Empire State Building and get pictures together in front of the city skyline. When you're leaving, you hold out your hand to her and ask, "Shall we?" in your best Tom Hanks impression. Santana laughs and calls you a dork, but takes your hand and shyly admits that it's one of her favorite movies.
You're happy, and you're not in a rush to label it. You've threatened the guys, telling them to be nice to Santana when she comes, or you'll "accidentally" break the television in the common room.
It's a dull shift, thankfully, so you won't be sweaty and dirty when Santana arrives. You text her, asking if she'll bring you a coffee, since the machine is broken. When she replies quickly, an of course with a smiley face, you can't stop the butterflies in your chest, ones that are always present when you think about her.
You're playing a round of Euchre with Mike, Sam and Tina when the door opens. It's Santana, carrying a tray full of coffees in each hand, and you can't help but shake your head at her thoughtfulness. She's wearing shorts with a blue Mets sweatshirt, to counteract the nip of September, and her sunglasses rest on top of her head.
Her eyes meet yours, and she smiles at you, and—
"You must be Santana, the coffee-bearing angel!"
You roll your eyes as Kurt takes a coffee from the tray while attempting to give Santana wardrobe advice. "You could totally flaunt a cardigan, maybe something maroon–"
"I'll keep it in mind, RuPaul, but I think I'm good," Santana tells him as she hands out coffees to the rest of the house. They all thank her, and shoot you looks, you think, of approval. After they disperse, you walk up to Santana and take the coffee from her outstretched hand.
"And of course, you get a cinnamon cappuccino," she says to you with a smile. You've noticed, as you've spent more time with her, that she's not full of smiles around other people. The opposite, really. You almost feel…lucky, that you're the only one who gets to receive her dimple smiles, and see her eyes light up. It feels special, like her smile is a secret that she only shares with you.
"You're amazing."
Santana shrugs. "I couldn't let everyone go without coffee, you have pretty important jobs to do."
You can't help but laugh. "I know you just did that to make a good impression." She opens her mouth to respond, but you grab her hands and pull her close to you.
"It was really sweet," you tell her, and her eyes soften. "They would've liked you even if you hadn't bought them coffee, you know."
"Yeah, I know, it's just…" She looks down and runs a hand through her hair. "They're your family, Britt."
"They are. And if they didn't like you, which is pretty impossible, then they'd deal with it." She lets out a breath, and meets your eyes again.
"Thanks, I think I needed that," she confesses, and you give her a quick kiss. You know the rules about PDA in the firehouse, you remember last year, when Schue caught Mike and Tina kissing in the locker room, and he suspended them for three days.
"Come on, I want to show you everything!" You grab her hand and pull her toward the door to the trucks.
You know you're overly excited, but you want her to really know you, and your job is a huge part of your life. You lead Santana over to your engine, which is extra shiny, since you washed it with the boys an hour ago.
"This baby is my prized possession," you tell Santana, who runs her hand along the smooth exterior of the truck. "San, meet Engine Eighteen."
She laughs as she traces the 18 with her finger. "They're a lot bigger in real life."
You shrug, and point to the slightly smaller truck on the other side of it. "Squad Six over there isn't as big, since it doesn't have an extension ladder like ours."
Santana glances up at the driver's seat of your engine before looking back at you, and her lips curl up into a shy smile. "Can I sit in it?"
You grin, and you reach up to the metal handle and pull the door open. After climbing up, you turn back around and extend your hand to her. She looks at you, ember eyes glowing, and firmly grasps your hand in hers.
You help her climb up to you, where she sits beside you on the seat. You watch her look around, in awe of all of the controls and buttons.
"Can I take a picture of you driving it?" you ask, and she laughs, but puts her hands on either side of the large steering wheel. You snap a few photos of her on your phone, where she smiles and makes silly faces at the camera.
When you're done, you give her a sly grin. "Want to see me in my gear now?"
"Definitely," Santana confirms, as she climbs out of the truck with you in tow. "I bet you're the only one here who can make that look hot."
You wink at her, and you walk over to the wall where the bunker gear hangs. She watches as you slide on the pants, looping the red suspenders over your shoulders. Before you can put on the jacket, she stops you.
"Okay, you definitely need to wear suspenders more often," she says, and pulls you toward her by the straps. "These are sexy as hell."
You blush. You haven't taken it to that level yet, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't think about it a lot.
"I'll keep it in mind," you tell her with a smile, and put on your jacket and helmet. Once you finish securing your helmet, you meet her eyes.
"How do I look?"
She gives you a dimple smile, which you take as a good sign. "You look awesome, Britt. I can't imagine how heavy it is."
"How about you see for yourself?" You take off your helmet, with the dark red 47 in the center, and hand it to her.
"I'm going to look so bad in this," Santana laughs. Slowly, she brings the helmet up to her head. She puts it on, and you reach up to help her secure it.
You take a step back and look at her, as she wears the helmet you've had since you became a firefighter, and you feel a sudden surge of affection for her. You can't contain the grin that stretches across your cheeks, and you want nothing more than to kiss her with everything you have. But you can't, not here.
"How do you wear this thing every day? I think it weighs more than I do."
You're about to respond when you hear the familiar sound of the alarm. Engine 18, Ambulance 32, person in distress on 48th.
You groan, because of course you'd get a call while Santana's at the station. Before you can apologize, Santana's putting your helmet on for you, and brushing a few loose strands of your hair back behind your ears.
"Don't worry, Britt, you can show me the rest another time." How she can understand you so perfectly, with no exchange of words, you're not sure. But you couldn't be more grateful, as she pulls you in for a quick kiss before the rest of the house comes out the door.
"See you after my shift?" you ask, and she nods. You haven't felt this reluctant to respond to a call in ages, and you don't want to leave the beautiful brunette in front of you.
"Stay safe," she tells you, with a squeeze of your hand, before your house erupts through the door to put their gear on.
Just as you're climbing into the truck, you turn your head around to find her leaning against the wall, watching you with a smile. You blow her a kiss, which she returns, before the truck door shuts between you.
The call is at a warehouse under construction. You're surprised, not because it's a construction zone, but because it's an abandoned construction zone. You'd expect workers to be buzzing about, but it's completely empty.
"I feel like we're in a scene from a horror movie," you tell Mike, as the two of you jump out of your truck into the eerie silence.
"Who would even be here? This place looks like it hasn't been touched in months."
You shrug in bewilderment as the rest of the team catches up with you. From what you can see, the warehouse is partially torn down. An entire brick wall sits in a crumbled heap on the ground, leaving a gaping hole in the side of the building. A faded, rusty crane is parked several feet away from the warehouse, and everything is covered in a considerable layer of dust that can be seen under the bright rays of sun.
"Team, listen up! Search the area in pairs. Someone here had to have made that 911 call," Schue yells, and you immediately lock eyes with Mike.
You and Mike sprint, as fast as you can in your bunker gear, towards the collapsed bricks. When you get to the pile of rubble, both of you, somewhat out of breath, pause. You readjust your helmet, which has become askew, before following Mike into the building.
"Fire Department, is anyone here?" you yell, hoping for some sort of response. There's no reply, so you scan your eyes across the room. The only source of light is the sunlight through the empty wall, but it's just enough to let you see into the depths of the building.
"Let's go up to the second floor, no one's down here," Mike suggests, and the two of you run to the narrow staircase on the left wall. You climb up the staircase two stairs at a time, and it takes you up two flights to the top floor.
When you burst through the metal door at the top of the stairs, you notice that the second floor is much darker. You and Mike turn on the flashlights on your helmets, but you can't see too far into the building.
"Fire Department, call out!" Mike yells.
It's faint, and you barely catch it, but a call for help comes from the other side of the building. Simultaneously, you and Mike run as fast as you can across the floor.
You see the giant metal beam before you see the boys. It's as long as your engine, and almost half as wide. The beam is on the ground, and you can see the hole in the ceiling from where it must have fallen.
"You gotta help him, you gotta," a voice pleads, and you look up to find a shaggy-haired boy, about thirteen years old, standing next to the beam. He frantically points down at it, where your eye catches another teenage boy, a little older, who is trapped beneath it.
"Hey little man, I'm Brittany. What's your name?" you ask the shaggy-haired boy. He starts to respond when you hear a gruff voice from beneath the beam.
"Miguel, what the hell? I fuckin' told you not to call them."
The shaggy-haired boy's lip quivers uncontrollably. "I had no choice, Carlos. You're hurt real bad."
You hear Mike radio Schue, asking for more manpower and a stretcher. As gently as you can, you put your hand on Miguel's shoulder.
'What are you two doing here?" you ask, and Miguel tenses up.
"N...Nothing, we weren't doing anything," he defends, and shrugs your hand off his shoulder. But you don't need an answer, when you see the lighter and the brown paper bag haphazardly dropped on the floor a few feet away.
"Is he your brother?" You gesture to the trapped boy, who is gasping in pain under the beam.
Miguel nods, and wrings his hands. 'His name's Carlos."
"We're going to help Carlos, I promise," you tell him, which seems to slightly calm his shaking. You hold Miguel's hand in reassurance as you hear the pounding footsteps of your team approach.
"Let's be careful, he's pretty reluctant," Mike tells Puck and Finn, who stand at each end of the beam, ready to lift it.
"¡Cabrón! Get the fuck away from me!"
Miguel turns rigid as his brother screams, but you soothingly rub your thumb over his hand in attempt to calm him. You hear Blaine count down from three, and slowly, Finn and Puck lift the metal beam, dropping it to the right of Carlos.
Tina and Kurt take over immediately, loading the injured boy onto the stretcher. He seems to have calmed down, but Tina buckles the straps extra tight, preventing Carlos from moving.
As they move towards the exit, you turn back to Miguel. "Is there an adult at home who we can talk to?"
He lets out a shaky breath. "Mi mamá. But she thinks we'd been playin' ball, she'll be so mad." At that, you kneel in front of Miguel, and stare into his frightened brown eyes.
"I think, Miguel, that your mom's just going to be relieved that Carlos is okay." He nods, but keeps his gaze focused at the floor.
"C'mon, you can ride along with your brother in the ambulance if you want." You gesture to the door, and together you walk outside to where the ambulance is parked. Tina and Kurt are just about to leave when you get to the ambulance, but Tina smiles at Miguel and opens the back door for him.
"Gracias, Brittany," Miguel says, and he finally shows a hint of a smile. "You're a lot nicer than those cops that are always around."
'We're way cooler, aren't we?" you laugh, but turn serious as you look into his eyes. "Miguel, if you or Carlos are ever in a bad place, the firehouse is always open. No judgement, you can just hang out with us."
Miguel nods, and his eyes light up. "That sounds pretty cool."
You smile and squeeze his shoulder. "Then I guess I'll see you around, little man."
He waves goodbye, and you walk back to your engine. Mike claps you on the shoulder, praising your work. You take a deep breath, feeling much better than when you arrived. Helping kids, it's the best part of your job. The part that, despite the impending danger of every shift, makes it entirely worth it.
Thank you all! If anyone got the reference from one of my favorite movies, then good job :)
~You can find art for this fic on Tumblr! Follow me ( snixxlixx) or use the tag #firefighter!brittana
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-Angel