Chapter Four: I Saw Sparks

...

Fridays have never been anything special to you. Unlike most people, the weekend isn't something you generally looked forward to. You actually prefered to be at work, surrounded by your friends. You love being a firefighter, and your weekends usually consisted of binge-watching police dramas and staying on your couch.

But then Santana happened. The beautiful woman you met at a bar, she fell into your life just when you thought that you had everything you needed. A job that you love, a cozy apartment, a few close friends; but you were wrong, so wrong.

Despite the unpredictability of your job, your life had been pretty bland. But Santana, she makes every day a new adventure. She takes you places you've never been, and you know you want to be with her, officially.

You have doubts though, doubts you've never really had before. Doubts about yourself, the constant danger that you face every day, the long hours you work. You've never been so scared in your life, yet you want it more than anything.

It's a Friday, and it's not a Law and Order marathon you're looking forward to tonight. It's the monthly open-mic night at Santana's bar, and she's invited you to watch her perform. She's sung along to the radio with you, but you've never heard her actually sing, and you couldn't be more excited. You figure, since you've shown her your home-away-from-home at the firehouse, she wants to show you hers: the stage.

You know that the stage is truly home to her. Santana had confessed to you one night, during dinner, that she'd been obsessed with performing in musicals back in high school. She told you she'd played Velma in her school's production of Chicago, and you couldn't help but blush at the thought of her dancing seductively in lacy stockings during "All That Jazz". When you asked if she'd ever considered Broadway, Santana had laughed and said that Broadway was for the "Rachel Berry types who've owned the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack since they were three." You're not sure how true that is, but you wouldn't question her.

It's been a quiet day, just a few tripped smoke alarms, and you're anxious for some action to distract you from your waiting. Puck and Mike are losing to you in a game of cutthroat when a call comes in, and you barely hold back a cheer.

Engine Eighteen, Squad Six, Ambulance Thirty-Two; fire on Twenty-Four-Hundred Madison.

"Hustle guys, let's move!" Blaine calls as the house empties out to the trucks. You throw on your pants, coat and helmet as quickly as you can, and climb into the shiny red engine with Sam, Blaine, Ryder and Mike at your tail.

...

You can tell which building you're responding to from a block away, because the thick smoke pours out from the windows. Squad 6 arrives from the opposite end of the street at the same time as you, and Kurt and Tina pull up next to them. As fast as you can, you hop off of the truck and attach your oxygen tank to your back. The rest of your crew mirrors you as Schuester approaches from the chief car, jogging towards the trucks and shouting orders.

"Hudson, Lynn, search the first floor. Evans, Pierce, take the second. If the fire gets too strong, you're out of there, all of you."

You don't stick around for any more orders as you and Sam sprint ahead to the old brownstone. Taking a breath, you pause at the door as you fit your breathing mask onto your face.

"You ready, Sammy?"

It's hard to tell with his mask, but Sam seems to smirk at you. "Ready as I'll ever be, Pierce."

You take the lead through the door, and immediately you're enveloped in smoke. Flipping on your headlamp, you beckon Sam to follow you through the door.

"Fire Department, call out!" you hear Finn yell from behind you as he and Ryder enter. Because they have the first floor, like Schue said, you scan the room for signs of a staircase.

"Over here, Pierce!" Sam calls, and you follow the sound of his voice to the right. He comes into sight after a few seconds, and you tail him up the narrow staircase.

"Anyone up here?" you shout, pausing to glance around the room licked in flames.

"H..help o...ver here," a voice coughs, and you and Sam make your way to them through the smoke.

You find the source of the voice quickly, with the violent coughs that sound through the room. It's a middle aged man and a young girl, whom you presume to be his daughter, crouched underneath a table in the center of the room.

"You...you've got to get...her out, she has...asthma," the man begs. The girl, who can't be more than eight, wheezes uncontrollably next to him.

"We'll get her out right now sir, just hang in there," Sam tells him. "Britt, you take her out, I'll be right behind you with him."

You pick up the young girl in your arms, and make your way towards the stairs. You're about five feet away when you hear a loud crash above you, and you instinctively turn away and cover the girl's body with your own.

Turning back around, you notice that a flaming wooden beam has fallen onto the staircase, creating a hot wall of fire between you and the first floor.

Frantically, you look toward the wall facing the street. A single window sits above the counter, and you immediately hold down the button on your radio with your chin.

"Chief, get a ladder up to the far right window, and do it quick!" you say into the radio. You look at Sam, who has the man with him, and he gives you a nod.

"On it Pierce. Get the window open if you can, it'll save time," Schue tells you.

Sam sets the man down, motioning for him to remain where he is, and puts his hands on either side of the window. Releasing a grunt, he pushes up on the glass, and it squeaks as it slowly slides up.

"Get ready, Pierce, the ladder's almost up," Sam tells you, and you fight through the smoke to the window with the little girl in your arms.

"Pierce, hand her to me!" Puck calls from the ladder, and you hold the girl out the window to where Puck is waiting with his arms outstretched. He grabs her bridal style, and you let go only when you're certain that his grip is perfect.

"Get her to the ambo immediately, Puck, she has asthma," you yell to him, and he nods quickly before making his way down the ladder. You back away from the window as Sam helps the man climb out.

"Get out of there, you two, this place is going down any second," Schue yells through the radio, and you quickly climb through the window with Sam behind you. A hot flame shoots up behind Sam, nearly scorching his back as he makes his way out.

"You good, Sam?"

"Fine, Pierce! Let's get outta here," he says, and the two of you begin to climb down the ladder as it rotates away from the building.

When you finally reach the bottom of the ladder, you let out a sigh of relief and remove your mask. You wanted some excitement, but this was intense, even for you. From behind you, Sam claps you on the back.

"Nice work in there, Britt."

You give your half-brother a small smile. "You too, Sammy. I'm glad you didn't get your butt fried off in there."

A loud sound from the brownstone makes you jump, and you look behind you to see the roof collapsing into the building, and flames bursting through the ceiling.

"Another minute in there and it wouldn't just be my butt that would fry off," Sam muses, gazing at the flaming building in front of him.

After lightly squeezing his arm, you take off your helmet and jog over to Kurt and Tina at the ambulance.

"How's she doing?" you ask Tina, while Kurt regulates the girl's breathing.

"She's doing alright," Tina says, glancing at the little girl. "You got her out of there just in time."

You look at the girl, who puffs steadily into a breathing apparatus. She looks up at you, her green eyes wide with shock and adrenaline, and you can't help but smile.

"See you at the station, birefighter," Kurt says, and you chuckle at his nickname for you as you walk back to the truck. You remember that Kurt had initially been hesitant to come out when he first joined Firehouse 47, after having faced some homophobia at his last house. But as soon as he learned that there were two firefighters at 47 who were queer and proud, he befriended you and Blaine immediately.

"Everyone on the trucks, we're heading back!" Schue calls, and you quickly jog back to your engine. After fist-bumping Mike, you settle into your seat on the truck and close your eyes, ready for the day to end so you can see Santana.

…

As you enter Abrams & Sons Brewery, your eyes subconsciously glance toward the bar, even though you know Santana's not working. The bartender on duty is Dave Karofsky, a burly guy with a teddy-bear personality who often works shifts with Santana. He grins when he sees you approach, and points you to an open stool on the corner.

"Can I get some Fireball for the firefighter?" Dave jokes as you sit down, and you roll your eyes.

"Funny, Dave, but you know I don't drink whisky," you tell him, and he chuckles. "I'll get my usual."

"Coming right up, Brittany," Dave says, and begins to prepare your passion fruit mojito. "Didn't bring any hot firefighters with you this time? I gave my number to that paramedic the other day, and he hasn't called me yet."

"I don't know, Dave. I'm pretty sure Kurt's got a thing for my Lieutenant, but I'll let him know."

"That's a shame," he says, and slides the mojito onto the counter in front of you. "He was cute."

You laugh before taking a sip. "When does Santana go on?"

Dave glances at his watch. "It's five past eight, she should be going on any minute now."

Before you can respond, the steady beat of the music in the background jars to a stop, and the small stage area lights up. You spin around in your bar stool as Artie Abrams, one of the owner's sons, wheels out from the back.

Artie adjusts his glasses and glances around the bar. "Welcome, everyone, to open-mic night at Abrams!" The brewery crowd applauds, and Artie smiles.

"I'm Artie Abrams, the head of finances here, and it is my pleasure to announce the first act. We're going to kick it off with one of our own… let's give a round of applause for the incredibly talented Santana Lopez!"

You feel your breath hitch as Santana, looking impossibly beautiful in her black dress and blue jacket, walks onto the stage. Her confidence, it seems to radiate from her, more than you've ever seen before. Santana makes her way over to the piano in the center of the stage and sits down at the bench, leaning into the microphone in front of her.

"Hey guys," she starts, training her eyes around the room. "I'm glad you all came, there are some really great performances tonight. I hope you all have a good time, and remember to tip your bartender and waitstaff."

A laugh resounds through the room, and Santana takes that moment to find you in the crowd, her eyes glowing under the spotlights as they meet yours. She smiles at you, and holds your gaze as she introduces her song.

"This is a special song to me, and I'm singing it for a special person." She winks at you, and you feel your heart rate increase. "I hope you all enjoy it."

Her fingers situate themselves onto the enameled keys of the piano, and she takes a deep breath before she begins.

You know the song immediately; you've been listening to Coldplay for ages, and it's one of your favorites. You've only ever heard it accompanied by a guitar, never piano, but as Santana plays the intricate opening chords, you already know it's the most beautiful version you've ever heard.

When she begins the first verse, you can't stop the tears that pool in your eyes. Her voice is raspy, and melodic, and perfect, and her. She sings the lyrics with elegance and passion, and you know, without a doubt, that this is what she's meant to do.

My heart is yours, it's you that I hold onto, that's what I do…

You're transfixed, on her, on the song, and when her eyes lift up to meet yours, you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

And I saw sparks, yeah I saw sparks, sing it out.

When the song ends, the applause she receives is thundering. You're clapping the loudest, you think, and Santana waves to the audience before exiting to the back room. You're anxious to see her, to congratulate her, to kiss her. You leave a twenty on the counter for Dave, and immediately make your way towards the break room where she had told you to meet her after her performance.

Slowly, you push the door open, and there she is: a little winded, and a lot beautiful.

"Britt…" is all she manages to get out before your lips are on hers, and you kiss her with passion, passion that overwhelms you both.

"You were incredible, San," you breathe out when you break apart.

"I think that was the best I've ever sounded," she confesses, her eyes wide with adrenaline. "It was just something about you being here, watching me, I just…"

You take both of her hands in yours. "I wouldn't have missed it for anything."

Santana grins at you, squeezing your hands, and exhales. "Britt, I've been thinking…I want to be with you. Officially."

You want to hug her, kiss her, tell her yes, of course, always.

But you hesitate.

She sees your pause, and she freezes, dropping your hands. Her eyes dart around, frantically, looking anywhere but you. "I, um, never mind… forget I said anything." She starts to turn around, but you snap out of your shock and grab her hand.

"San, woah, hold up," you tell her, and she turns back around to face you. "I want to be with you too, more than anything." You tuck a fallen strand of her dark hair behind her ear, and her eyes soften. "You're all I can think about all day, and I want something real with you, something permanent."

Her dark eyes search your features quizzingly, as if she's trying to solve a puzzle. "I'm sensing a 'but' in there somewhere."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out your insecurities, but they just seem to spill out of you. "I just… I'm scared. Not of you, never of you, but… what if I didn't come back from work one day, Santana? I face death on a daily basis. What if one of these days I don't make it out of a fire? And I work eleven hours a day, and–"

Santana puts her hand on your cheek, stroking your chin with her thumb, and it stops your rant. "Britt, sit down and talk with me for a second."

She takes your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours, and she pulls you over to a couch. She sits, pulling you down next to her, and you take a deep breath.

"Do you know why I like you so much, Brittany?" she asks, and you shake your head. You honestly have no idea why someone as beautiful and passionate as her would want to be with you. "Why?"

"Because you're the most genuinely caring and selfless person I know. You risk your life every day just to help people, Britt. That kind of authentic good is impossibly hard to find in the world."

Santana leans forward, and places a feather-light kiss on your lips. "I don't want to be with you in spite of your job. I want to be with you because of it. And yeah, it's dangerous, it always will be. But it's who you are. And all it means is that you'll have to try extra hard to stay safe, because you'll have someone to come back to."

You have tears in your eyes now, because Santana, she understands you so unbelievably well. "And my job hours?"

"I can trade my shift at the bar for an earlier one, and we'll get more time to spend together at night. I can visit you on your shifts too, you know." She squeezes your hand, woven with hers. "We'll work it out, Britt."

You nod, because you believe her. You trust her completely, and if she says that it'll be ok, you know it will be.

"Okay."

She looks at you carefully. "Okay as in…"

"Okay as in, let's be official. I can't even picture not being with you."

She kisses you then, with more affection than ever before. When she pulls back, her eyes are glowing, igniting, adoring. "So you're my girlfriend?"

"I'm all yours, Santana Lopez."

…

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Song used: Sparks by Coldplay

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