#firefighter!steve

Against his better judgement, he peeks through the open door. There’s a lot of boxes scattered around the living room. Steve can see a mattress placed against the wall opposite the front door, a guitar case right beside it, but that’s about it. There’s no sign of the new neighbor anywhere.

If it was any other day, Steve would probably stick around and wait so he could meet the new neighbor, but he just got out of a 24-hour shift. He’s dead on his feet, the idea of his soft bed just waiting for him in his apartment is way more appealing at the moment than standing there in the hallway, waiting for a stranger; he can always come back later, when he doesn’t feel like shit.

With that in mind, Steve heads back to his own apartment. He’s sure he’s gonna have enough opportunities to meet the new neighbor; there’s no rush.

-

-

Steve meets the new neighbor two days later and in a very unexpected way.

He’s having dinner, minding his own business, when he hears a fire alarm start blaring like crazy in the building. Steve’s instincts kick in immediately, and he’s out of the apartment in seconds. The sound only gets louder as he reaches the hallway, and it doesn’t take long for Steve to realize the apartment across the hall is the source of all that ruckus.

Steve’s about to knock on the door when the alarm stops. He ends up knocking anyways, because who knows!? His neighbor might be hurt as far as Steve knows. He can hear things clattering inside the apartment, followed by muffled cursing and paces approaching.

Then his neighbor opens the door, and Steve loses all the air in his lungs in one go just by lookingat the man standing in front of him.

He’s gorgeous. Wild, curly hair pulled up with some loose curls framing the prettiest pair of eyes Steve’s ever seen, a toned chest and stomach in full display and the tattoos; Black ink covering most of the man’s arms and chest in intricate designs Steve would love to take his time and get a closer look.

“Can I help you?”

Steve’s eyes stop their gradual descent down the man’s body and snap back to his face, his cheeks burning with embarrassment for getting caught so shamelessly ogling.

Yeah, excellent first impression there, Harrington, Steve thinks to himself.

“Sorry to bother you,” he forces out, making sure to keep his traitorous eyes up and on the guy’s face. Which is not that hard since the guy has a very nice face. “But I heard your fire alarm and wanted to make sure you were okay.” The guy looks at him funny, so Steve adds, “I’m a firefighter.”

“Ah, that explains a lot, actually.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, no, it’s nothing bad,” the guy says in a rush, hands flying in front of him in frantic gestures. He stops quickly, though, when he almost smacks Steve in his hurry and Steve needs to take a step back to keep himself out of his way. “Sorry, it’s just that this is the first time someone comes check if I’m alright after I set my alarm off. You caught me by surprise a little.”

That’s not as comforting as the man thinks it is, especially to Steve. “How often do you set off your alarm?”

A soft, pink blush dusts the man’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose as he huffs out a startled laugh.

“A few times?” He admits. “I’m not a very good cook. Accidents happen sometimes.”

There’s something in the guy’s voice that tells Steve he’s bending the truth a little there; that sometimes might not be the most accurate word choice in that situation.

Jesus, what kind of human disaster that guy actually is?

You know what, Steve doesn’t wanna know. At least not right now. He’s gonna deal with that when the time comes. If the time ever comes, that is. Steve’s not gonna be a worrywart and overthink things that might not even happen.

He’s not like that anymore.

(He hopes.)

“Okay, if you say so,” Steve nods. The man visibly relaxes with the lack of further questionings, and Steve can’t help but smile at him. “But if anything happens, don’t hesitate to call me. I live right across the hall.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s really kind of you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They stay right there, staring at each other in that kind of uncomfortable silence where no one knows what to say next, or even if they should say anything next at all.

The man, however, doesn’t give any signs that he’s going to go back inside and Steve doesn’t want to be rude and just turn around and leave as if he hadn’t been the one who knocked on the man’s door in the first place.

Or maybe he’s being rude by keeping the man away from what he was doing before Steve interrupted him? Should Steve just leave?

He ends up not needing to make a choice because the man’s phone starts ringing somewhere inside the apartment and makes both of them snap out of their awkward impasse.

“Sorry, I gotta take that,” his neighbor says, all apologetic and pretty as he points somewhere behind his shoulder.

“Of course, it’s fine. I gotta go too.”

There’s still some hesitation from both despite the implied farewell in their words. The phone ringing inside the apartment, however, doesn’t leave room for much more stalling.

“Anyway, thanks for the concern? I appreciate it.”

“You’re more than welcome. I’m gonna get out of your hair now, I don’t wanna take too much of your time. See you around.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Steve is acting totally cool and collected when he turns around and crosses the hallway. Of course he is, he’s not awkward in the least. Why would he? Just because he’s just found out he now has an insanely hot neighbor? Who also seems to be a pretty nice guy despite the fact that they’ve interacted for five minutes and this definitely shouldn’t be enough for Steve to be jumping into this kind of conclusion?

Pfft, why would this make Steve feel awkward? It’s not as if he’s been a hopeless romantic for his whole life and also happens to have a very weak spot for pretty eyes. Of course not.

(He’s such a big fucking liar.)

Steve’s a step from reaching his own apartment when his neighbor calls him again. Steve wishes he could say he turned to face the man in a chill, nonchalant way.

His neighbor is still pretty much there, in all his shirtless glory and watching Steve even though his phone is ringing itself to death inside.

“I didn’t get your name.”

Only then does Steve remember that, in fact, he never introduced himself properly to the guy, despite being the one who totally decided to bother him in his home.

Yep, excellent first impression, alright.

“I’m sorry, it’s Steve.”

His neighbor quirks an eyebrow, head tilting sideways in the cutest puppy look. “Why would you be sorry that you’re called Steve? It’s a nice name.”

That is definitely not what Steve expected the man to say, and the surprise renders him useless for far too long. He just stands there, his mouth hanging open like an idiot until his neighbor takes pity on him.

“I’m fucking with you,” he laughs. The clear, beautiful sounds sends the blood rushing up to Steve’s face and ears. “I’m Eddie. It was nice to meet you, Steve.”

“Yeah, same,” Steve stammers, praying for his face to not be as red as he thinks it is.

The amusement is obvious on Eddie’s face, but he doesn’t have time to say anything on the matter because his cellphone stops ringing and, suddenly, the man is paler than a ghost.

“Oh fuck, Chrissy’s gonna kill me,” he curses, slapping his forehead hard enough for Steve to wince in sympathy. Big brown eyes find Steve again, all apologetic and shiny. “Sorry, man, I do need to go. But it was nice to meet you, hope we can chat some more one of these days.”

And, just like that, Eddie is slamming his door shut and Steve is once again alone in the hallway, standing there like an idiot as he stares at the empty space his neighbor just vacated.

The mortification for what just happened hits Steve slowly, sinks in gradually with each step Steve takes towards his own apartment until it’s settling heavy in his stomach and making it twist.

“I’m an idiot,” Steve mutters to himself, once the door is locked and he’s safe in the privacy of his living room. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

The first thing he does is ogle his neighbor, then he proceeds to act like a teenager with a crush. For fuck’s sake, Steve is a thirty-year-old adult. He should not be stammering around guys anymore, no matter how hot they are.

But maybe it’s not so bad, Steve hopes. Eddie didn’t seem bothered or annoyed at all, so it’s okay, right? It has to be.

Steve’s still thinking about this when he heads back to the kitchen to finish his dinner.

His lasagna, unfortunately, has run cold.

-

-

In the following weeks Steve learns two things about his new neighbor.

The first is that Eddie is a pretty cool guy. They’ve run into each other a few times after that first unplanned encounter and, since then, they’ve been very amicable to each other.

Eddie is always friendly when their paths cross; always stops what he’s doing to chat a little with Steve, always seems to be in a good mood. Considering his lack of judgement every time they see each other, Steve concludes that his new neighbor didn’t mind Steve’s awkwardness that first night, which is a relief. Steve is not that awkward normally, so it’s good to know that his temporary dumbassary didn’t make Eddie think less of him.

The second thing Steve learns is that when Eddie said that ‘he wasn’t a very good cook’, he hadn’t been joking.

The man is a fucking disaster, just like Steve suspected he would be.

In the three weeks Eddie’s been living in the building, Steve’s already heard the damn fire alarm more times than he had in the past two years.

It’s ridiculous, and it’s totally fucking up with Steve’s sleep schedule because the alarm sets off precisely while Steve is trying to get some rest after his shifts.

The first time this happened, Steve let it slide. Shit happens sometimes, so he isn’t going to knock on Eddie’s door again just because he’s woken Steve up by accident.

The man just moved into the building; Steve doesn’t want to be a bad neighbor, he doesn’t wanna nag him for such a silly thing.

But after three weeks, and after waking up eight times to Eddie’s fire alarm blaring and echoing all over their floor, Steve can safely say that this situation is getting out of hand and it’s not looking so silly anymore.

Steve has knocked on Eddie’s door in at least three different opportunities. He always does it to ask if his neighbor is okay, if he needs help with anything, but also to subtly show Eddie that his cooking accidents are a little too frequent, and that the rest of the floor is also aware of them.

Steve doesn’t straight out say, “You’re bothering the neighbors, man”. But after four visits, if you include that first night when they met, any normal person would get the clue.

Not Eddie, apparently, because last night he once again set off the fire alarm and scared Steve shitless when he was on the verge of falling asleep.

“Are you seriously falling asleep mid workout?”

Robin’s amused, slightly breathless voice brings Steve back and he snaps his eyes open. He has no idea when exactly he closed them.

Must have been a while too long ago because his vision is blurred and Steve needs to blink a few times until his surroundings come into focus again. He’s still lying on the bench and the weights are hovering over his head, safely in their rack. When Steve turns his head, he finds Robin watching him from the treadmill, where she’s apparently been running for long enough for her face to be red and her bangs sticking to her sweaty forehead. Lucas, who’s supposed to be Steve’s workout partner, is nowhere in sight.

Aside from Nancy quietly doing her yoga on her bright pink mat in the far corner of the gym, close to the large windows that face the back patio, there’s no one else in the room.

“I wasn’t sleeping, I was just resting my eyes,” Steve replies, as he sits up.

“You were snoring.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

Robin doesn’t seem convinced. “Sure, you weren’t.”

Steve ignores the clear teasing in her voice. He rolls his eyes and reaches for the water bottle at his feet, taking a drink to wash down the weird taste in his mouth.

How long did he sleep?

Screwing the bottle shut, Steve gets up from the bench and crosses the gym towards Robin. Without Lucas assisting him, there’s no way Steve’s lifting any weights; he’s learned his lesson after almost snapping his wrist in two thanks to a bad grip when he had no one else around to help him put the weights back on the rack.

He stretches his legs, instead. Bends down a few times and stretches his legs and hips muscles before hopping on the other treadmill next to Robin.

A long yawn leaves his mouth as Steve is pressing buttons and adjusting the settings.

“Seriously, what is happening to you today?” Robin asks. A couple of loud beeps echo in the gym and soon Robin’s jog slows down to a power walk at best. “You’ve been yawning and grumbling like an old man since you got here this morning.”

Steve matches her easy pace, his muscles still too lax from the nap for him to start running right away. “Remember the new neighbor I told you about?”

“Hot neighbor?”

“Yeah, Robin, hot neighbor.” Steve glares at her, a silent warning that her smartass remarks won’t be welcome right now. Robin makes a zipping gesture in front of her mouth. “That guy apparently can’t cook for shit. He’s setting off the fire alarm all the fucking time, it’s so annoying.”

“Shut up, you’re joking,” Robin states flatly. When Steve doesn’t say anything, her brows rise almost to her hairline. “You’re not joking.”

“Of course I’m not joking, why would I even joke about something like this?”

The old, coughing AC in the gym is not enough to battle off the July heat at all and the room is getting stifling as they reach mid-afternoon, the air cloying and heavy. Even with the easy pace and the light gym clothes, sweat has started gathering on the back of his neck and on his temples, and Steve wipes it off with his hand when it starts getting bothersome.

Robin isn’t faring much better next to him. Her light gray tank top is now a dark charcoal and her hair is a dark shade of brown.

“Steve, that’s fucking dangerous,” she says, as if Steve wasn’t aware of that. “He’s what? Setting the food on fire?”

“I don’t think that’s the case. He looked kinda embarrassed when he mentioned his ‘accidents’ in the kitchen. I doubt he’s doing this on purpose, but it’s fucking up my sleep schedule. Yesterday the damn alarm woke me up at five a.m. and I couldn’t sleep anymore. Had to spend the whole day running errands when all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and pass out. And when I finally got home, had my shower and got into bed, he woke me up again and I got so frustrated that I couldn’t sleep until past midnight.”

Robin winces in sympathy. She’s had her own problems with loud neighbors before; she knows exactly what Steve’s going through.

“You gotta talk to him, you know that, right?” She asks. “Not just because of the noise. He might not be doing it on purpose but constantly burning shit while you’re cooking to the point where it sets off the alarm isn’t safe at all.”

“I know it’s not safe,” Steve huffs out, throwing his hands up in frustration. “But what do you want me to say? ‘Hey man, sorry to bother you, but could you maybe not suck at cooking? You’re gonna set fire to the building someday, and you’re also disturbing my routine.’ I can’t do that, Robin.”

The words are barely out of Steve’s mouth and Robin is already shaking her head in disapproval.

In a quick move, she pushes the stop button on the treadmill, slowing her pace until she finally stops, her hands gripping the side handles to steady herself as her tired legs get used to the sudden lack of movement.

“Then you have two options,” Robin says, a little labored as she takes the towel draped over the handle and dries the sweat off her neck. “Go on with your life and pray that this Eddie guy doesn’t end up burning down the whole building with his horrendous cooking skills or find somewhere else to live. Because if what you’re saying is true and the man really is that bad, there’s nothing else to be done.”

“I’m not gonna move because of this,” Steve grimaces. “I like my apartment.”

Robin shrugs. “Then stay there and pray, I guess.”

“Or you can teach him how to cook.”

Nancy’s been so quiet the whole time that Steve completely forgot she was there with them. Robin did too, if the way she jumps and lets out a little yelp is anything to go by.

Steve turns his head just in time to catch Nancy putting her yoga mat back in its bag before grabbing the rest of her things and joining him and Robin. Her steps are so light she doesn’t make a sound.

“If you don’t wanna move and don’t wanna die in a fire, then teach the guy how to cook,” Nancy repeats. “Your neighbor finally gets to eat something other than char, and you get your full night’s sleep back. Everybody wins.”

Rationally? It’s not a bad idea. If Eddie knew how to cook Steve would at last get back to his old life, where hot neighbors didn’t wake him up late at night or too early in the morning because they didn’t know how to fry an egg without burning it.

Still, Nancy’s plan has a big, big problem.

“Nance, I barely know Eddie,” Steve tries to reason. “If I offer to teach him how to cook, he’s probably gonna tell me to go fuck myself and mind my own business.”

“Or maybe pretty neighbor will be so grateful you came to his rescue that you might even get a thank you blowjob out of it,” Robin pipes in, with an innocent expression so fake Steve throws his own used towel at her.

Nancy, the traitor, laughs. She coughs, the water she had been drinking going into the wrong pipe, but her laughter is still clear among her coughing fit, and of course this just makes Robin get worse.

“See? Nance agrees with me,” she says, wolfish grin huge as she pats Nancy’s back.

“You two are horrible, I hope you know that.” Steve is glad that he’s on the treadmill because he’s sure he’s blushing.

The girls don’t seem to mind his grumpy retorts, however. They just laugh it off and tease him.

Steve hates them.

(He definitely doesn’t.)

With a pointed glare, he increases the speed on the treadmill and starts running.

If they’re gonna be assholes and tease him about his problems, then Steve is gonna ignore them for the time being. Or better yet, he’s gonna ignore them until the words thank you blowjob leave his mind and he stops blushing like a maiden.

-

-

Needless to say, Steve does not follow through with Nancy’s suggestion.

As amicable as they are when they run into each other, he and Eddie are still far from friends; Steve is sure the chances of Eddie getting offended by such an offer are way higher than the opposite.

Come on, you don’t knock on someone’s door and offer to teach them how to cook and genuinely expect them to say yes. This shit only happens in romcoms or porn… or serial killer movies.

But maybe that’s okay. Maybe Steve won’t actually need to worry about this whole thing too much after all.

Because for the rest of that week Eddie’s fire alarm stays dead silent. And it remains quiet for the entirety of the following week as well.

That’s a change, for sure, but a very welcome one. For the first time since Eddie moved into the apartment across the hall, Steve doesn’t hear the man’s alarm a single time for days and days.

Steve has no idea what happened and what’s the cause behind this sudden change but he’s grateful for it. He’s finally getting some sleep, he’s not gonna complain.

“Maybe he finally gave up and stopped trying to cook for good,” Lucas says during one of their shifts, as he helps Steve put away their equipment. They’ve just come back from a call, and Hopper put them in charge of cleaning duty. Their arms are sore from all the scrubbing they’ve been doing for the past hour, but their equipment is spotless. “At least I would’ve given up by now if I was in his shoes. Sometimes we gotta accept that we just can’t do certain things and that there’s no shame in that.”

“I really don’t care what he’s doing, man,” Steve replies. He accepts the last helmet Lucas hands him and hangs it in its respective hook, along with the mask and gloves.  “I’m just glad that I can finally sleep in peace.”

That day, when Steve leaves the firehouse and goes home, he finds the building quiet and thanks whatever gods there are out there for answering his prayers.

But of course this peace wouldn’t last forever.

In retrospect, Steve should’ve realized that the change was only temporary. He should’ve noticed that the silence wasn’t the only change there, he should’ve noticed that along with the peace and quiet also came a weird absence from Eddie.

For the three weeks after moving into the building, Steve had run into the man almost daily, but once the fire alarm incidents stopped Eddie had also disappeared. Their paths never crossed again for those two weeks of blessed, amazing silence and Steve should’ve realized those two things were connected somehow, but he didn’t.

He didn’t and now he feels dumb. Because on Monday morning, when he leaves for work, he finally runs into Eddie again and when Steve gets back home on Tuesday morning, he’s greeted by the screeching sound of Eddie’s fire alarm and the unmistakable smell of smoke just as the elevator’s doors open on his floor.

Only then does Steve realize that no accidents happened for two weeks because Eddie hadn’t been home for two weeks. But now he’s back and, with him, his abysmal cooking skills.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve hisses in distress.

He’s dumping his duffle bag on the hallway floor in a second and sprinting towards the source of that smell by pure instinct. Steve stops only to snatch the fire extinguisher out of its case on the wall and then he’s once again running down the hall.

There’s smoke coming out from under Eddie’s door and his ten years of experience as a firefighter is the only reason Steve doesn’t panic.

“Eddie, open the door!” Steve yells, slamming his fist against said door and making it shake in its hinges. “Eddie!!”

He doesn’t get an answer, but when Steve tries the doorknob he finds it unlocked.

A fire hazard and completely clueless about home safety, Steve is gonna have a talk with Eddie after this.

Setting those thoughts aside for the moment, though, Steve slams the door open and barges into the apartment. He’s immediately met by a cloud of smoke, the stink of burnt things strong enough to make his eyes water as he crosses the living room and follows Eddie’s panicked curses and coughs.

Eddie’s in the kitchen. Of course he’s in the kitchen. And when Steve reaches the doorway, his stomach drops to his feet. The fire has spread from the stove to the upper cupboards and Eddie, that madman, is trying to put down the flames by throwing pans of water he’s getting from the sink.

Eddie is too damn near the flames, and the dumbass is shirtless and barefoot, and Steve is definitely going to sit down and have some serious talk with him about all this concerning, reckless behavior.

“Eddie, move,” Steve shouts, so he can make himself heard over the deafening beeps of the fire alarm and his neighbor’s very creative curses.

Steve’s sudden appearance takes Eddie by surprise. He screeches, the pan of water slips from his hands and clatters on the floor, spilling water everywhere and almost making Eddie slip when he turns on his heel to face the newcomer.

“Steve?” he asks genuinely surprised, the sound coming out chopped by a sudden coughing fit, but Steve really doesn’t have time for this right now.

He reaches for Eddie’s arm and pulls him back and far from the flames before unlocking the safety on the fire extinguisher and squeezing the handle.

White powder swallows the flames easily and soon enough all that’s left from the fire is the awful stink of char and the black squares that once were Eddie’s upper cupboards. The stove looks just as bad and there’s a charred pan with oil on top of it that Steve suspects might be the cause of all that ruckus.

Once Steve is sure the flames are dead and the emergency over, he finally puts the fire extinguisher down and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“Are you okay?” he asks Eddie, turning back to check how he’s fairing.

Eddie’s stuck in place. He’s still where Steve pulled him to, his breath sort of labored as he keeps coughing a little and nervously biting on his fingernails, his doe eyes staring at the burnt cabinets as if in a trance.

That’s not good.

“Eddie,” Steve tries again, stepping closer until they are right in front of each other. He touches Eddie’s arm with caution and feels the exact moment the man trembles and snaps out of it, his gaze at last meeting Steve’s. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I don—I don’t know.” Eddie swallows down hard as he eyes the burnt cabinets and stove again. “I don’t know,” he repeats.

It’s a good thing they are so close because Steve moves fast when Eddie’s knees buckle. Steve braces his weight, supports him and keeps him up with ease.

A wet sound leaves Eddie’s throat before he says, “I’m sorry.”

Sympathy squeezes Steve’s heart. “Hey, no. Come on, man, everything is okay now. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” With care, Steve pulls him towards the living room, where he helps Eddie sit on the couch. “I’m gonna go open the windows to air out the apartment. You stay here and check if you have any injuries. I’ll be back, okay?”

Eddie’s eyes are suspiciously shiny when he nods but Steve doesn’t mention it. Instead, he marches back to the kitchen, pulling a chair close to the sink so he can hop up and turn off the fire alarm that is still blaring. Then, Steve throws the windows open, letting the dark smoke filter out through it and taking a deep breath of fresh air.

Steve also goes back to the hallway to check if any of their other neighbors heard the commotion. Mrs. Ford and Ms. Hernandez are talking anxiously when Steve steps out of the apartment, their phones in hand. They were about to call 911, and Steve reassures them there’s no need.

“It was just a cooking accident, everything is taken care of,” he guarantees. “Thank you for your concern, ladies.”

After a few more reassurances, and after fetching his abandoned duffle bag he left close to the elevator, Steve finally rejoins Eddie in the living room. He’s not on the couch anymore. Eddie’s left it in favor of standing by the open window. His shoulders are shaking as he breathes deep and even, his head lowered as he leans forwards against the windowsill, bracing himself up on his forearms.

“Hey, man, did you find any burns that need tending to?” Steve asks gently so not to startle him again, as he takes a place next to Eddie by the window.

Despite the slight shaking, Eddie seems calmer, the worst of the coughing has passed. The shocked expression has melted from his face and he doesn’t shy away or scare when he realizes Steve is back. Eddie seems present and not lost in panic as he was a few minutes ago when Steve found him.

That’s an improvement.

“My hands,” Eddie says quietly, voice hoarse.

He stands straighter, then shows Steve his hands. There are splotches of angry red on the back of both his hands, the one of his right hand is big enough to go all the way to his wrist. There’s the beginning of a blister on that one.

Good news is, despite the angry color, the burns aren’t bad enough to require medical help. At least Steve thinks so.

“To the bathroom then,” Steve says, putting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and steering him towards the bathroom.

This may be the first time he’s inside the man’s apartment, but it’s quite clear this one is just the same as his own. Steve has no problem finding where the bathroom is, and Eddie follows him without any kind of protest.

“Here, hands under the water,” he instructs, pulling the faucet handle until the water is cool and nudging Eddie a little to make him move. He nods in approval when Eddie follows his orders. “You were lucky you weren’t wearing your cool rings when you burned your hands. Taking them off with these burns would’ve made this worse than it already is.”

“I don’t wear them when I’m cooking,” Eddie says, still a little quiet and not looking at Steve at all; his eyes fixed in the running water hitting his skin. “They get sticky and it’s a pain to clean them afterwards.”

“Smart move, actually.”

Eddie at last lifts his gaze; flat and unamused as he looks at Steve. “I’ve just set fire to my kitchen, and you’re complimenting me for taking off my rings before I cook? Seriously?”

Steve shrugs, leaning against the cabinet as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “This kind of thing happens, Eddie. I work with what I work precisely because this kind of thing is common.”

“Oh, I’m sure. There are a lot of idiots like me out there, I don’t doubt the number of disasters we cause every day is high enough for you to never be out of a job.”

“That’s not what I meant at all and you know that.”

The lack of judgement seems to subdue Eddie’s will to argue, seems to sober him up somehow. He deflates; his shoulders slump down and he averts his eyes, chewing down on his own lip to prevent himself from saying anything else.

Silence grows inside the bathroom then, broken only by the steady flow of the water coming out of the faucet and soothing the beet red skin of Eddie’s hands.

Steve doesn’t try to talk. He holds his posture, watching quietly as the water pours down on Eddie’s hands, then down the drain, and tries to give the man as much space as he needs to wallow in his momentary state of self-pity for what’s just happened to him.

Steve has enough experience in this kind of situation to know that pressuring someone after they just had such a fright is never a good idea.

“How long do I need to keep my hands here?” Eddie mutters a few minutes later, and Steve offers him a small smile when he notices his neighbor sneaking a glance by the corner of his eyes.

“Five more minutes,” he answers, taking a look on his wristwatch before crossing his arms again. “Then I’ll check your hands again to make sure you don’t need medical attention.”

Steve only gets a nod in answer but that’s fine.

When the five minutes run out, Steve quietly turns the water off.

“Now let me take a look,” he asks gently.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate before lifting his hands, palms down, so Steve can check on them. The white light in the bathroom is perfect for it. Careful not to touch the damaged area, Steve holds Eddie’s forearms lightly, just strong enough to lift them a little more so he can inspect the wounds better.

The blister on his right hand is bigger, it’s now almost as big as a funnily shaped quarter and the skin around it is so red the contrast with Eddie’s fair skin is striking. In this one, his pointer and middle fingers also have blisters, while the others look unscathed.

The left hand isn’t so damaged; it’s more of a dark pink than a deep red, a mosaic of small dots covering the back of Eddie’s hand in tiny burns instead of a big one like his right hand suffered. Some of these dots are definitely small blisters but, overall, they look way less painful.

“Palms up, please,” Steve asks, assessing eyes never leaving Eddie’s skin as he turns his palms up as instructed. There are some pink blemishes there, but no blisters at all in either one of his arms or in the palms of his hands. All in all, it could’ve have been much worse. “How’s your head? Do you feel nauseous? Short of breath?” When Eddie doesn’t offer any answers, clearly confused by the sudden torrent of questions, Steve explains, “You inhaled a lot of smoke back there, this could cause some issues if ignored.”

“Oh, right.” Eddie is restless for a moment. He starts reaching up for his hair but seems to remember halfway that both his hands are injured and ends up letting them fall by his sides. “My head is fine and I don’t feel nauseous. My throat just feels scratchy and my nose is kinda runny, I guess. I can still smell the smoke.”

Steve hums as he considers the man’s words. He steps closer and into Eddie’s personal space, touching his face briefly and turning his head from one side to the other so he can examine his eyes better under the white light.

“Your eyes look a little irritated, but nothing major,” Steve mutters. “Some eye drops should help with that.” He stays there, eyes roaming Eddie’s face and down his body, laser-focused and in search of anything he might have missed earlier. He steps back only when he doesn’t find anything. “Do you want the bad news or the good news first?”

“Bad news first, always.”

“The bad news is that this shit is gonna hurt like a bitch for a while, sorry about that.”

The light tone and the sincerity in his voice must put Eddie at ease because he lets out a snort, then meets Steve’s eyes again by his own free will. That angry consternation is gone from his face, now Eddie just looks very tired.

“What’s the good news then?” he asks.

“Well,” Steve says, letting go of his arms. “The good news is that these burns definitely won’t require medical attention. I’m no paramedic, but they look like first degrees to me. You just need to wrap them up and keep the bandages clean and in a couple of weeks or so your body will have finished producing new healthy skin. You’ll be as good as new.”

“Just like that? Just wrap and wait?”

“Just like that,” Steve nods.

“That doesn’t seem right,” Eddie frowns, his gaze falling to the blisters on his hands for a moment. “Seems too easy.”

“Your body was designed to deal with this kind of thing,” Steve says, gesturing for Eddie to leave the bathroom and following close behind when he does. “As long as there’s no infection, it’s only a matter of waiting for your body to do what it’s supposed to do. That’s why you gotta keep it bandaged and clean. The less contact the burnt area has with anything, the less chances you have of getting an infection.”

They reach the living room again when Steve finishes, and he watches as Eddie flops down on the couch with a heavy sigh. He’s careful not to disturb the burns, rests his hands on top of his knees as he leans back.

Steve’s traitorous mind registers that Eddie is still very much shirtless and with his tattoos on full display for Steve’s eyes to see.

That’s so not the time for that, but he can’t help but steal a glance.

(He’s only human, okay?)

“Do you have a first aid kit?” Steve asks just to take his focus off his neighbor’s lean muscles that are right there, rippling and moving as Eddie lifts his hands a little to study the damage on them. “I can wrap your hands for you.”

The owlish look he gets is ridiculously adorable, especially when the first signs of a blush start turning Eddie’s cheeks a light shade of pink.

“I lost mine when I moved,” he answers, lowering his gaze again to stare at his blistered hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. A nervous, embarrassed laugh leaves his mouth and he fidgets on the couch. “I still gotta buy a new one.”

Honestly, by now Steve isn’t even surprised.

“I’ll go get mine, then,” he sighs. Steve grabs his duffle bag from the floor and heads to the door. “Just, please, don’t pick on the blisters until I’m back. You don’t wanna burst them, believe me.”

“I wasn’t gonna pick on anything,” Eddie says. He sounds a little too defensive for Steve to believe him.

Steve stops by the front door just to send him a last warning glance.

“No picking.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and huffs. “Come on, I’m not that stupid. Give me some credit.”

Steve doesn’t respond. He squints his eyes, hovering by the door for a few more moments before pulling it open and marching back to his own apartment.

Steve grunted when he and Bucky rounded the corner of Mr. DeNunzio’s law firm. Tents and beeping trucks were set up across the usually empty plaza, with people unloading goods and crates onto rickety plastic tables. It was new. Steve didn’t like it. 

“What are people just standin’ around over here for?” Steve questioned his best friend. He took a sip out of coffee-filled Hydro Flask, decorated with small stickers Bucky's daughter had given him over the five small years she’d been alive. They were childish things, little sparkly butterflies and vampires and one that even said ‘World’s Best Uncle’, but he proved that sticker right and wore it on his bottle with pride. 

Bucky shrugged, taking a bite from the unhealthily buttered up piece of toast in his hand. “Dunno, man, might be the farmer’s market.” The brunette caught the sulking man out of the corner of his eye and rolled his eyes. “You gotta be kiddin’ me, quit acting like a baby, Rogers. We’ll have plenty of time to get your walk of peace before we have to head in. I didn’t leave the house out three forty-five in the mornin’ for nothing.”

“Right,” he mumbled absentmindedly. It was true, the duo had no business being out at four thirty in morning when they were called for a new twenty-four hour shift at six, but they liked to roam around Brooklyn early in the day. Late September rolled brisk autumn mornings into play in New York, leaves on the trees turning lovely shades of orange and bakeries blending together his favorite aroma into all of their buttery treats- pumpkin. 

And normally he liked being up early too. He enjoyed silence. He (occasionally) enjoyed his best friend’s presence. So it may have been childish, but Steve was quite upset that the 54th Annual Brooklyn Autumn Harvest Festival was loudly interrupting his morning walk. 

They crossed down the center of the street to the walkway of the plaza, taking in the scenery around them. Bucky chewed annoyingly with his mouth open and crushed crunchy, brown leaves under his boots. The night sky still shone through the tall brick buildings and brownstones and trees. 

“Can’t believe you’re up for a promotion to lieutenant, Stevie,” He grinned. “You’re goin’ to the higher ups.”

The blonde scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah, I guess. Wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” he slapped his friend’s back with a wide open palm, making him wince despite being taller and bigger. “You’re a good man and an even better one for the job. Chief Dubirk knows that.”

“And Chief Dubirk also has his asshole kid running for the position too.” Steve shook with anger. Nothing pissed him off more than Liam Dubirk and his snotty, spoiled, cheating ass. He was a few years younger than Steve himself, but he’d risen through the academy and system quickly and was his greatest competition for lieutenant. Of course, he’d gotten through the ranks quickly through cheating and lying, but his father didn’t know about any of that. And Steve wanted to turn him in. For copping the answers before their exams or for using his father’s money to make deals with other officers for a good word, but the blond wasn’t a snitch. If he couldn’t be Liam Dubirk he was going to be a better man than him. 

He took a sip of his coffee, and now it was tainted with the bitterness of the thought of Liam. “I don’t even know why he’s up for the job, Buck, I’d rather run against you. You’re so much better than Liam.”

His older friend looked over at him with a grimace. “Thanks, Stevie, doesn’t mean much in comparison to that rat, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He clapped his friend on the back. “You know I can’t run for it though. Becca needs me at this age so I’m not gonna be doin’ anything until she's in high school at least.”

“You’re a good father, Buck,” the brunet thanked him. “You’re a much better one than Liam could ever be.”

He groaned. “Jesus Christ, Steve, I know you don’t like him but he doesn’t have to be brought up in every conversation-”

“You’re the only person I can talk to about this, man!” Steve argued. “I mean Sam listens too but he got sick of it ages ago, and Nat won’t even talk to me…”

He droned on and on about Dubirk, arms flailing about as he complained. All up until the hand holding his bottle hit something that wasn’t air. Something solid. 

Bucky watched as a woman fell over with a crate of large sunflowers in her arms. It was in slow motion, her losing balance as Steve’s bottle hit her in the face, then brown, steaming liquid poured down her shirt. But he couldn’t do anything to stop how she crumpled to the concrete ground as Steve’s eyes widened in realization.

“Shit!” A pained groan reached Steve’s ears as he stopped his sentence. Though it was his duty to protect the city (from fires, but also just in general), he couldn’t find it in himself to turn, standing frozen to the ground with his hand now empty a Hydro Flask of coffee. 

Bucky, ever more aware than his best friend, gasped and immediately knelt down to the fallen woman. “Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t stay out of trouble a single time we’re out, Rogers. Last time it was the bar fight today you're killin’ innocent civilians, maybe you shouldn’t be lieutenant with this type of shit on your file.”

“You’re real funny, Buck,” Steve grunted from where he stood. Despite finding a retort to his friend’s jab, he was still rigid as when the Hydro Flask slipped from his fingers. “You ever thought of bein’ a comedian?”

“A few times,” the brunet’s hands went to the woman’s forehead, where a welt was beginning to form at her hairline. “Get down here and help her, Steve, I ain’t cleaning up your messes no more.”

The dramatic James Barnes stood up gracefully and clutched his coffee cup, making sure to show Steve how to hold it so it wouldn’t hit others. “Pardon me, miss,” Steve whacked his friend’s back as he passed by him, “can you say somethin’ for me? Anything’s fine, I just wanna know that you’re alive.”

The woman lay unmoving on the cold concrete, leaves lying around her body like a halo of pretty orange. 

“Shit,” Bucky murmured. He fished his phone out of his pocket, fumbling around with the home button until it unlocked after a few difficult tries. “Goddamn iPhones, still can’t figure out how they fuckin’ work…”

A hand landed on Steve’s tennis shoe and he jumped at the contact. The woman was now moving, a somewhat dazed frown on her face. “Christ, that hurt like a fuckin’ truck,” she groaned. Her arm laid over her eyes to block out the warm light of the streetlamps. “Last thing I needed today.”

Slowly, she eased herself up onto her elbows, an audible crack emerging from her hurt body as she arched her back. “That’s quite the arm you got there, mister,” the woman glanced up, squinting at him but her eyes widened when she saw his biceps. “Or arms, I should say, really.”

The blonde blushed a deep red and attempted to disappear from the world in his leather jacket. His best friend, on the other hand, slapped him in the chest, motioning for him to help the poor, coffee-stained woman up. With some sort of mixture of a squawk and a squeak he knelt down, offering a shaky hand. “Oh my God, I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going- you came out of nowhere!” The woman fixed him with a raised brow and he realized his mistake. “N-not that it was your fault! At all, it was all me.” His eyes glanced down to the stain on her blouse and he winced. “Ma’am, I can buy you another shirt- wait no, take mine-”

Without another thought in his naive, little brain, he threw off his leather chestnut jacket and crossed his arms to grab the ends of his plain white tee. He lifted it over his head and the woman couldn’t help but stare in awe as his muscles stretched against his taut skin. She was pissed that he’d spilled coffee all over her blouse on such a stressful morning, but God, if he wasn’t hot.

Bucky, watching the whole scene in front of him, rubbed his eyes tiredly and strolled away from where his best friend was making a stuttering mess of himself. Neither of them were that good around pretty girls, but the difference between the two was that he had a pretty girl at home and Steve was spilling coffee and gaping at one like a fish. “Fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered.

The woman chuckled and brought herself off the ground by herself. Her blouse wasn’t horribly stained- no one could see through the solid black material, but the liquid was cooling in the fabric and it made for an uncomfortable feeling. Steve’s face was still as red as the fire truck he drove around in as he held out his shirt to her. Goosebumps were starting to spread across his bare skin in the light of the fading moon. 

She groaned as she reached forward to grab his shirt. “Thanks,” she began unbuttoning her blouse with no shame and Steve, ever the gentleman, averted his gaze from her chest while she changed, still a bit fazed by the quick series of unfortunate events that he had caused. As she pulled the cotton tee on, a scent of pine came over her like a blanket, and she felt smothering by its woodsy smell. 

“Are you okay?” Steve still looked up to the boring sky, with no stars in sight right next to the city. 

The woman grinned, not that he could see, and tapped his forearm. “I’m decent, you can look now.”

“Oh, thank God, there’s nothin’ going on up there now,” he breathed out. He bent down to grab his leather jacket and pull it over his cold shoulders. For the first time in the five long hours minutes, he felt like he could breathe, coated in the safety of his leather jacket. It also, surprisingly, was the first time he actually made eye contact with the woman he knocked over.

The very pretty woman he knocked over.

The shirt was a bit long on her, dropping down to her knees over the two-toned jeans she wore. It was… certainly a look. Her hair was a bit ruffled from falling over and there was an out of place look on her face but she still stood tall and confident as she stared up at him with an annoyed look on her face.

“Oh, uh, hey,” Steve’s face was burning as he choked out a few words that weren’t you're hot.

She eyed him suspiciously and glanced down to the stained blouse in her hand. “You hit me with your water bottle.”

He looked down and whispered. “It was actually full of coffee.”

“Don’t worry, charmer, I got that,” she waved the bundle of coffee-stained shirt at him and Steve swore he was going to melt into the ground from the embarrassment he was feeling.

“Uh- yeah. Of course.” He should’ve just shut his mouth then. Or run away after he hit her. Either would’ve been better than mortifying himself in front of the pretty girl. “‘M sorry again.”

“‘S okay, my ex got me that blouse, I’ve been meaning to get rid of it,” she joked. She caught the glimmer of a laugh in his eye even though he was still beet-red. “I’m Y/N.”

“Steve,” he finally didn’t mess up his words and instead, stuck out a hand to her. As she shook it she noticed how nicely hers fit in his large, warm palm. She wouldn’t mind feeling it again. “Is it too rude to ask you what you do ‘round here this early in the morning?”

She smirked a little and glanced back at the crate of sunflowers she had dropped minutes before. “I’m a florist. This is our first year at the Brooklyn Autumn Harvest so I got here extra early to make sure everything went well.”

“And then I ran into you,” he continued. She nodded a bit and grinned wider. “‘M sorry again, I’m really a mess.”

“Yeah, you are,” she laughed, “Steve.”

His name sounded so pretty rolling off her tongue. He rather liked it. 

Steve wanted to respond, to ask more about the intriguing woman he’d knocked over but from twenty-five feet behind him, Bucky grunted. He was so entranced by Y/N that he completely forgot that his best friend was there. Consequently, he’d also forgotten that he had to get into the station as well. 

“Rogers,” he grunted, “get her number and get a move on. You wanna make a good impression on Dubirk, no?”

Y/N tapped his arm. “Dubirk is that no good son of a bitch you were complaining about right?”

“Not exactly, I was complainin’ about his son.” Steve paid no mind to the wheeze that escaped his friend behind him as he returned his attention to her. “But you heard that?” 

“Think we all did,” she gestured towards the other workers setting up their stalls. None of them looked over, but he could tell that they were paying attention. He liked to think he had a super-sense in that way. “He sounds like a real knuckle-head.”

Steve chuckled. “He is.”

“Well,” she slipped a pen from the pocket of her baggy jeans and scurried to the crate to grab her notepad. Blue eyes watched intently as she scribbled some numbers and words down onto the paper. “I wouldn’t want you to lose such a high position to a knuckle-head, Lieutenant.” Oh, that really did something to him. “Just give me a call.”

She slipped the paper between his fingers and closed his fist around it. The blond stood dumbfounded at his hand, and glanced up to meet her eyes once more. The pretty florist who he’d nearly given a concussion to. Yet he still couldn’t form words as she left him with a wink and Bucky came to pat him on the back.  

“You ready to go, Stevie?” The duo watched the woman walk away, not knowing she was wearing a smile that stretched on for miles. “You can call her later but she’s never gonna go out with you if you don’t get lieutenant.”

“Shut up,” the blond exited his lovesick trance with a faint grin. He shoved the note into his back pocket, making a mental note to stick it in his locker at the station. As he watched the bottoms of her jeans get stuck under her sneakers he ran a hand through his cropped hair, letting out a low whistle. “I’ve got her number,” he grinned. And nothing mattered more than that.

A year later would find Lieutenant Steve Rogers and his girlfriend talking about their first encounter at their first anniversary. They would regale a chilly September morning and a coffee stained shirt as a brunette man hit his best friend’s shoulder as he commented on what an idiot he was that day. Y/N would sit in Steve’s lap, one of her arms wrapping around his neck so that her fingers could skim the skin of his exposed collarbone as she pressed a deliriously happy grin to the side of his throat. “You’re still a mess, baby.”

BEEP BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP BEEP.

You groaned as you slapped your hand around the nightstand trying to find your phone with the alarm going off. When you finally found it, you grabbed it and opened one eye to turn it off. You checked the time and realized you should get up to make sure you weren’t late on your first day at your new job. With a groan, you slowly sat up and noticed you were naked and had a pounding headache.

“Great. Hungover on the first day.” You mumbled as you rubbed your temples.

A groan behind you caught your attention. “God. I’m not drinking ever again.” 

You looked over your shoulder and saw a blond man laying on his back rubbing his hands over his face. The blankets sat at his hips which put his built torso on display. His chest looked like a good place to rest your head and it seemed like his abs had abs. You quickly found your underwear on the floor and a navy blue tee shirt and put them on. You stood facing him and tried to smile even though it felt like a construction crew was in your skull. 

“Um, hi.” You said.

The man brought his hands from his face and laid them on his chest. “Hi.” 

The two of you awkwardly stared at each other and you hoped you were smiling more than grimacing. The man sat up, keeping the sheet covering him and stood looking for most likely his underwear. He found black boxer briefs and put them on without moving the sheet which was impressive to say the least. 

Once he got them on, he dropped the sheet on the bed and found what seemed to be his jeans. He pulled them on and looked up at you and chuckled.

“I need my shirt.” He smirked.

You looked down. “Oh..” You found one of your sweatshirts in your dresser, along with shorts, and started towards the bathroom connected to your bedroom. “I’m just gonna…” You trailed off pointing to the bathroom.

He smiled, “Alright.”

You ducked into the bathroom and quickly locked the door. “Oh god.” You whispered to yourself. You quickly changed out of his shirt and into your clothes. 

You left the bathroom and saw him sitting on the edge in your bed on his phone. You cleared your throat.

“Uh, here you go.” You held his shirt out to him. He stood up and it was then when you realized how tall he was. You were eye level with his chest and had to title your head up to look in his eyes that were a very bright blue.

He took his shirt and put it on without breaking eye contact. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.” You hummed. 

“I don’t remember a lot from last night but I do know you said you start a new job today so good luck on that and I hope you don’t feel too bad today.” He bent down and kissed your cheek. You felt your face heat up.

“I-I’ll walk you out.” You walked out your bedroom and led the way to the front door of your apartment. The living wasn’t a mess so that told you the two of you went straight to your room. You unlocked the front door and opened it to let him out. “I, uh, hope you have a good day.”

He smiled before he walked out the door, “You too.”

You closed the door and leaned your forehead against the cool wood. “Fuck me.”

--------------------

You pulled up into an empty parking spot and grabbed your backpack with all your stuff once you parked. Looking towards the fire station, you saw both big garage doors open and saw your soon to be coworkers messing around or cleaning or working out. You swung your backpack over one shoulder and started walking toward the station. 

“Hey! It’s the newbie!” You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw a dark skin man waving at you. “Hi! I’m Sam.” 

“Hi.” You waved back. 

“Wilson, keep mopping. It’s your fault there’s whip cream everywhere.” A red head woman said as she walked over to you. “Hi, I’m Natasha.” She held out her hand.

“Y/N.” You said, shaking her hand. “Do I want to know why he’s mopping up whip cream?” You chuckled. 

Natasha playful rolled her eyes, “In between last night calls the boys were pulling pranks.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Natasha laughed. “They’re lucky it was our captain’s day off last night. Otherwise he would have laid into them and made them clean every nook and cranny of this place.”

“Is your captain here?” You fiddled with the strap of your backpack.

Natasha shook her head. “Not yet. He texted me earlier saying he was gonna be running late. Apparently had a good night if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully which caused you to chuckle. “Let’s get you settled before he arrives.”

She led you to the lockers, where you filled yours, and gave a quick run down of where everything is before leading you to the ambulance. You found out that Natasha is one of the paramedics they have and you two would be partners. 

“Okay, so here’s how everything is organized. We do share the ambulance with other shifts but we all got together and figured out where to put everything. If you figure out that a certain supply would be easier to grab in a different spot just send a quick text in the group chat we have for all the paramedics and EMTs. Oh! Speaking of which, let me get your number so I can add you.” Natasha pulled out her phone from her pocket and you gave her your number. “Most of the time we’re like a high school chat with the amount of memes we send.” 

You chuckled knowing exactly what she meant. She continued to show you around the ambulance and then started to introduce you to the other firefighters. You already met Sam when you walked in and he seemed to be done with mopping the whipped cream. Then met James Barnes; who goes by Bucky because there’s two named James but it’s also a childhood nicknamed that stayed, Clint Barton; whose Golden Retriever named Lucky is the station dog and loves pizza apparently, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff; who are twins and moved to the States when they were kids, James Rhodes; who goes by Rhodey and is the other James, and then was told that Carol Danvers, Maria Hill, Peter Parker, Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne you would meet another time due to them being off.

“Sorry I’m late!” A voice boomed throughout the station. You turned in the direction of said voice and your breath got caught in your throat.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath.

“I know right.” Natasha smirked. “I’m kidding. One thing you’ll quickly see is how we all tease each other.”

You awkwardly chuckled, “Oh okay.” 

He noticed you standing with Natasha and you saw his face pale before he schooled his features and walked over to you. He was now wearing the same uniform everyone else was and it was fitting him perfectly just like the jeans and tee he put on this morning when he left your apartment.

“Hi there. You must be the new EMT we were sent.” He placed his hands in the pockets of his pants and stood there exuding authority. 

“Uh, yeah.” You tried to smile hoping it was an actual smile. 

“Steve. Or Captain Rogers. Or Rogers. Or Cap like everyone else seems to call me.” He chuckled as he held his hand out for you to shake.

“Y/N.” You said as you shook his hand while your brain so helpfully supplied an image of those hands around your waist.

“Let’s head to my office before we get a call. There’s some housekeeping things I want you to know.” 

You hummed an acknowledgement and followed him to his office trying to keep your gaze in the middle of his back or the floor so as to not focus on his behind that was contained by the uniform pants. Steve opened the door and motioned for you to walk through the doorway.

“You can have a seat in one of those chairs if you’d like.”

You quickly walked over to the chairs in front of his desk and sat down. He sat in the rolling chair on the other side and leaned back in the chair studying you. Instead of meeting his gaze, you looked down at your pants picking off pieces of invisible lint.

“Well,” Steve cleared his throat and leaned forward to place his forearms on his desk with his fingers interlocked with each other. “I will say that this is not how I expected this shift to go.”

You chuckled, still staring at your pants. “You and me both.”

“I don’t want to make this uncomfortable for you and I can work it out to where we won’t be on the same shift. But, I do want you to be here because I’ve seen your scores for all the tests and they’re phenomenal.” Steve said. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled with a slight heat in your cheeks. “And you don’t have to change anything. I’ll admit it might be weird the first couple days but I’ll be fine.” You gain the courage to look at him and saw his ocean blue eyes watching you. 

“Not to make this any more awkward than it kinda is but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left your place.” Now it was Steve’s turn to blush. “I promise I’m not trying to come onto you but, uh, I just needed to say that.” He looked down at his desk and fiddled with his thumbs.”

“Well if it’s any consolation I haven't stopped thinking about you either.” You smiled. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something but then the bell rang signaling that there was a call. “Well, let’s start your first shift.” 

You two stood up from your seats and Steve opened the door for you to go first. You gave him a smile as you thanked him. 

“Let’s do that.” You chuckled and took off towards the ambulance with Natasha. 

--------------------

It’s been a few months since your first day and the team has felt more like a family every day. Natasha has felt like a sister to you, Sam has gotten a run for his money when you’ve played pranks and your relationship with Steve has gotten…...closer. You ended up telling Natasha that you slept with him and she couldn’t help but laugh. When you asked why she was laughing she said, “Well, I don’t blame you. He is a nice snack.” You couldn’t disagree with her on that. Steve and you talked about how you two wouldn’t let that night affect you two working together but neither of you could ignore that there were feelings for the other. 

“Hey Y/N!! Can you call Lucky over? He keeps trying to drink the soapy water!” Clint yells across the firehouse where he, Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey were trying to was one of the trucks.

“Yeah. No problem. Lucky! C’mere!” You whistled. The Golden Retriever came bounding over to you and jumped into your arms licking you all over your face. You giggled as you gently pushed him away to go over to his toys and grabbed a tug rope. 

As you were playing with Lucky and wearing him out, the alarm that signaled a call sounded. Dispatch said an ambulance was needed for a car accident. It was always difficult to tell how bad car accidents are until you get there. You and Wanda, who you found out was another EMT, were on shift and ran to the ambulance to head to where the accident was. The accident was at an intersection that always had a lot of accidents whether it be minor or major. 

When you and Wanda arrived, there were already two ambulances there which told the two of you how bad it was. There were at least six cars involved. One was wrapped around a tree, two looked like they collided head on, and the three rear ended each other. There looked to be people out of some cars but your biggest worry was the one wrapped around the tree. You asked one of the other EMTs if any of them checked on the patient of the car around the tree and they said they got there a few seconds before you and Wanda. 

You yelled for Wanda to grab the bags while you ran over to check on whoever it was in the car. Your breath got caught in your throat as you saw it was Steve in the driver’s seat. He was unconscious, slumped over the steering wheel. You gently leaned him back so you could check his front for injuries. Steve had a cut above his eyebrow causing blood to trickle down his face, his left arm was broken which also had the bone poking through the skin, the steering wheel dashboard trapped his legs which caused you to not assess the injuries there. 

“Oh my god.” Wanda gasped when she saw who it was. 

“Wanda,” You turned to look at her. “I know it’s Steve but we treat him like every other person we’ve treated before. Okay?”

She swallowed and nodded her head. Wanda pulled out a cervical collar and handed it to you so you can place it around Steve’s neck to prevent any hidden injuries from getting worse. You called over your shoulder to have Wanda get the spine board. She nodded and ran to the ambulance. A groan pulled your attention back to the man in the banged up vehicle. 

“Steve? Hey big guy. Can you open your eyes for me?” You gently coaxed.

“Wha-? Y/N? What are you doin here?” His speech was slurred but you couldn’t tell if it was because he was regaining consciousness or if the cut on his head was more than just a cut.

“You got in a car accident. Do you know what happened?” You asked as you placed the collar around his neck.

Steve scrunched his face trying to think. “I-I can’t remember.” He started to panic. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Steve, you need to calm down.” You grabbed his wrists so he wouldn’t hurt himself. “Right now I need to check over your injuries.” You heard footsteps behind you and saw the spine board placed next to you. Wanda started getting stuff out of the bag to bandage the cut on Steve’s head. 

The two of you started to assess what you could see but you knew the steering wheel dashboard needed to get moved. You stood up and turned to see if there were any firefighters who could help and saw Sam, Bucky, Clint, and Rhodey all running over to you. They looked over your shoulder and saw it was Steve. 

“What do you need?” Sam asked. 

“His legs are trapped so we need to get those out.”

“Alright. Guys, let’s get the equipment to help.” The men took off back to the fire engine and you turned your attention back to Steve. 

“Hey. I’m going to ask you some questions, okay?” You asked Steve. He mumbled a ‘yes’ and you started asking questions which would assess his mental status. You heard many pairs of footsteps running back over to you and saw Sam out the corner of your eye. You, Sam, and the rest of your team who were there, worked together to get Steve out from being trapped in the car. Once his legs were free, you all placed him on the spine board while Clint and Wanda went to get the gurney. 

“Everything hurts.” Steve groaned in pain. 

“I know, honey.” Unintentionally letting the pet name slip out. “I’m gonna get you some meds for that.” You got everything to get an IV in his arm to distribute pain meds. Wanda and Clint came back with the gurney and everyone loaded him up on the gurney, then into the ambulance, and Wanda jumped in the driver seat and started heading to the hospital. 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “I’m glad that you were there.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand. “Well I’m glad that you’re alright for the most part.”

“You called me ‘honey’.”

“Eh. Pet names like that slip from me at times. Sorry if it was unprofessional.”

He gently shook his head as best he could with the collar on. “No, I actually liked it.” 

You could see a sense of determination in his eyes. “How ‘bout we focus on you getting better before we talk about possibly dating and what that means for our jobs.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “How’d you know?”

“Steve. Honey.” You winked at him. “It’s my job to check for even the smallest facial expressions in order to see how much pain someone is in.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

You shook your head chuckling, checking over his injuries you could see to make sure none have gotten worse. 

Wanda pulled into the ambulance bay of the hospital where three nurses met you and helped you roll Steve into the hospital. He went to surgery for his arm and to make sure there were know serious internal injuries. You were there by his bedside in recovery when he woke up. The two of you would figure out logistics with the budding relationship at a later date but knew you couldn’t wait too long. 

Steve mumbled as he was coming out of the anesthesia. He opened his eyes a bit and saw you sitting there. “Hi.” He closed his eyes with a smile on his face. 

You smiled. “Hi. How you feeling?”

Steve mumbled incoherently which caused you to chuckle. 

“Alright.” You grabbed his right hand, being careful of the IV line, in both of yours. “You get more rest.” Steve mumbled more as you placed a kiss on his knuckles.