Can’t get Firefighter Miguel out of my head because of the Miggy discord.
content warning: nothing but fluff...for now 😗
word count: 1.3k, not proofread
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Imagine you’re trying to get into baking or something and you’re not used to your oven AT ALL.
Cherry pies? Ruined.
Apple fritters? Apple crisps.
Chocolate chip cookies? Charcoal chip cookies.
Brownies? More like burnt brownie brittle.
Your process would be going so well until it was time to actually put your dessert in the oven and it was like your oven plotted against you.
You set the right temperatures. You pre-heated. You even placed things in the right part of the oven. How is it that everything goes wrong?
The only desserts that saw the light of day were the no-bake ones. You’re not sure how much more no-bake cheesecake you could take anymore.
The day that really sets it off is the day that you attempted to make a simple vanilla birthday cake. Your friend’s birthday was coming soon and you wanted to gift her one of those cute bento cakes.
Your icing is finished and delicious. You’ve been practicing the decorations all week and they were pretty cute! The cake just a few more minutes left to bake, then you could take it out to chill.
As you’re piping a bag of baby pink icing, you look up to see that the room is a little foggy. You turn in a panic and notice puffs creeping from the oven.
“No, no, no!!!” you cry as you turn to open it.
You can’t do anything but cough as a ton of smoke hits you in the face.
Your cake on fire. Orange and yellow light illuminating the oven.
You panic as the fire seems to grow brighter once it hits the air.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”
Where was your fire extinguisher? You tried fanning at fire with a towel, but to no avail. You couldn’t even get to the knobs to switch the oven off.
You step back, terrified. You felt like sobbing watching the flames take over. Why aren’t the sprinklers on?
By the time you run out of your house, the fire alarm decides it can sing its tune. You call 911 with a shaky voice, hoping they can get here faster than your alarm decided to make itself known.
You stand outside peeking through your eyes as you could see the flames grow near your kitchen window.
Thankfully the firetruck makes it in time, the firefighters working quick to get inside.
One of them asks is anyone else inside and you shake your head no, thankful that it was just you.
It doesn’t take long for them to put it out and come back outside.
“Are you ok?,” one of them comes to ask you. You look up to this tall, dark, and handsome man. He’s sweating a bit obviously from the summer heat and the fire as he takes his helmet off. His hair is curly and dripping. You ogle him a bit, watching his chest move up and down.
“Do we need to call you an ambulance?” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder.
“Oh! No! So sorry, I’m still a little…winded from everything,” you say, embarrassed.
“Ok, well as long as you’re fine. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” he asks.
You cast your eyes down. Here was such a fine man standing before you and you had on pajamas and a frilly maid apron with flour splattered on top.
“I was trying to make a birthday cake. As we can see, it completely failed,” you reply. “I don’t know what happened. I followed every instruction. The oven was set at 350 degrees.”
He tilted his head at you as you whined away.
“Is this the first time that something like this has happen?”
You shake your head no, “This is the 3rd burnt dessert in a week.”
“Hm. Well I’ll have the crew here check it out.”
An hour and some change later, one of the firefighters tells you and the tall glass of water, who learn is a captain named Miguel, that you have a damaged gas line.
“You’re really lucky that you were only getting blackened sugar. One more cake and that could have been the end,” Miguel says to you with hand on his hip and another on your shoulder. “And also, never open the oven if there’s a fire. If this happens again, turn the oven off and wait until it dies down.”
You felt your head nodding, heart beating at how awkward everything felt.
Miguel looked down at you again, “Do you have anywhere you can stay over night? Or until I can get someone up here to get this gas fixed?”
“My grandma lives a couple of streets down,” you say, cheeks heated at his intense eye contact.
“Tell you what, how about you settle there for the night and I’ll come back personally to help you grab your belongings tomorrow morning?”
“That would be amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry for all of this,” you gesture to your house.
“It happens. Nothing you did here was your fault. Besides, I’m the captain. Fighting fires is what I do. Now, how about a ride in the truck to your grandma’s?”
You feel giddy when he practically pulls you in the truck. No seats are left so you have to settle for sitting on Miguel’s lap, heartbeat racing.
The other firefighters try to hide their smirks and snickers watching their captain hold you so softly in his arms. One big bump in the road has you clinging to him to not fall off.
You straighten back up, embarrassed by the little slip. Miguel chuckles at your actions.
You pretend not to hear their wolf whistles as he guides you to your grandma’s front door.
Miguel knocks firmly, waiting with you until she opens it.
She’s about to fuss at you for not stopping by sooner until she looks up at Miguel.
“And who is this?” she says, a bit shocked.
“My name is Captain O’Hara. I just wanted to drop your grandbaby off. Had a little baking accident.”
Your grandma listens to Miguel as he explains the situation calmly and professionally. It doesn’t stop her from fussing over you, grabbing and turning you to check for any damage.
“I’m ok grandma. I just have to stay here while my gas gets fixed.”
She thanks Miguel profusely, “Son, what’s your favorite food? I’ll have it made and sent down there for you.”
Miguel laughs heartily. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to answer that until he beats you to it.
“Whatever your specialty is, I’ll take it,” he says with a sweet smile on his face and holding your grandma’s hands.
“Cap! We gotta another fire at the college dorms. Someone burnt noodles in the microwave again,” a firefighter yells from truck.
“Well if you all can excuse me, duty calls!” he says and runs back to the truck.
“I can’t believe you burnt a cake! Haven’t I taught you better? And you know you’re making him that food, right?” your grandma says as you step inside.
“Grandma,” you say, affronted. “It was the oven, not me! And he might not want to even eat what I make after this.”
“Hmph,” she says, with a click of her tongue. “Well, you better get ready to use this kitchen here. You need that man as a husband.”
“Grandma.”
“I have some ham hocks in the freezer, some turnip and mustard greens. I think the church sent me some potatoes. We need to go to the store too. You gotta get him through his stomach.”
“Grandma!”
There was a silence as you and your grandma stared at each other.
“So are you thinking pork chops or catfish to go with the side dishes?” she said, grabbing a pencil and an empty envelope.
You just groaned and crumpled in your chair.
divider by: @benkeibear ❤️🔥
the grandma convo is heavily inspired by my own grandma lol. tagging @miguelhugger2099 @kit-and-wolfe @huniedeux @ugh-ok-fiyn because I want y’all to see this 😗
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