#this AU is occupying my mind in a way I didn't expect it to lkjnasdjnfasdf

[thelastspeecher]

Uh oh I accidentally wrote more for the Firefighter AU.

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             The wildfire was far from defeated, but Stan’s shift was over.  He headed to the truck to wait for the shuttle that would take him back to the prison. But he wasn’t the only person done for the time being.  Someone else was at the truck, removing their gear.  He came to a stop.

             I recognize that height.  It’s the chick with the scar I pissed off.  What was her name?  Angie something.  Angie Bucket?  Maybe. Angie caught sight of him.

             “Oh, it’s you,” she said flatly.  She propped a hand on a hip, frowning at him.  “Can I help you?”

             “Yeah, uh…”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “We, uh, we got off on the wrong foot the other day and-”

             “One second,” Angie said.  She reached for her right ear.  Stan squinted.  His eyes widened.  “All right, you can talk.”

             “You’ve got a hearing aid?” he asked numbly.

             “What of it?” Angie snapped.  She crossed her arms.  “I shouldn’t have bothered to turn it on to hear you if yer goin’ to insult me again.”

             “I didn’t-” Stan started.  He sighed.  “Joe says I’ve got a gift for putting my foot in my mouth.”

             “He’s right.”

             “He also says I’ve gotta apologize.”

             “Yep.”

             “I’m not used to doing that.”

             “If you ever plan to make somethin’ of yourself after ya finish servin’ yer time, you’ll have to get used to it.”  Angie raised an eyebrow.  “Word around the station is ya want to go into firefighting.” Stan nodded.  “Ya best learn yer manners fer sure, then.  We ain’t cops.  We have to actually be polite to civilians.”

             “Yeah.”  Stan took a deep breath.  “I’m…sorry.” To his surprise, Angie smiled.

             “Thank you,” she said softly.  “Now, what’s the real motivation behind yer apology?”  Stan grinned sheepishly.

             “Joe said he’d stop giving me money for cigarettes until I apologized.”

             “There it is.”  Angie sat on the ground and patted the dirt next to her.  “Join me, Pines.”

             “Can’t say no to a pretty lady.”

             “Careful ‘bout what ya say,” Angie said airily. Stan sat down next to her.  “I know yer curious ‘bout my scar.  Everyone is.”

             “Can you blame me?” Stan asked.  Angie shook her head.  “You said it was a firework accident.”

             “Yes.”  Angie sighed. “When I was eight, my older brother was settin’ off fireworks fer the Fourth of July.  I was runnin’ ‘round hyper and excited, ‘cause of course I was.  Then…”  Angie cleared her throat.  “Turned out my brother started the firework and retreated to a safe distance, but didn’t let anyone else know he’d gotten the next one goin’.  By the time he realized I was still runnin’ ‘round in the danger zone, it was too late.”  Angie fell silent.  Stan was silent, too.

             What do you say to a story like that?

             “I…”  Angie ran a hand through her caramel-colored pixie cut.  “I grew up out in the sticks, so it took longer ‘n desired fer me to get medical attention.  Luckily, it looked worse ‘n it was.  I didn’t lose any vision in my eye, despite it bein’ in the line of fire.”  She tapped her right ear.  “The boom from the firework goin’ off, though, that screwed up my hearin’ pretty bad.  I’ve needed a hearin’ aid ever since.”  She snorted. “At least I was the only kid in elementary school with one.”

             “But you couldn’t have even sued anyone for negligence,” Stan mumbled.  Angie chuckled.

             “Nope.  But I’m all right now and the experience helped me find my callin’.”

             “That’s why you decided to become a firefighter?”

             “Yep.”

             “That’s nuts.  If you almost drowned, would you have become a lifeguard?” Stan asked. Angie shrugged.

             “Maybe.”  She cocked her head, smirking.  “Yer opinion is the same one I’ve heard from my fam’ly.  They couldn’t believe what I wanted to do.  They fell in line eventually, though, when they realized I wasn’t goin’ to back down.”  She patted Stan’s leg.  “Okay. Yer turn.”

             “My turn?  For what?”

             “I shared a deeply traumatic experience from my childhood.  You have to share somethin’ similar.  Fer example…” There was a twinkle in her eye.  “What was the crime what got ya here?”  Stan hesitated.

             Do I tell her?  It’s not really her business.  Angie nudged him expectantly.  Joe and the other guys know, though, so if she wanted to find out, she could.  Might as well keep working at getting on her good side.

             “Ironically, arson,” Stan confessed.  Angie nodded thoughtfully, a ghost of a smile playing on her face.  Stan was hit with a sudden burst of inspiration for something to fully win her over.  “And, actually, I, uh, I’ve got a burn scar of my own.”

             “Oh?”

             “Yeah.  It’s right here.”  Stan gestured to his right shoulder.  “Some debris got me while I was trying to get away.  Took me down for the count.  Next thing I knew, I was in handcuffs.”

             “Hmm.  Don’t take this the wrong way, but it honestly sounds a bit like karma to me.”

             “You’re probably not wrong,” Stan agreed.  “The universe decided to tell me to stop sticking my big nose into trouble, I guess.”

             “Speakin’ as someone who also has a big nose, trouble finds us,” Angie said with a wink.  Stan grinned.  Angie’s nose was big in a different way than his, as it was thin and long, but it was still a defining feature of her face.

             If it weren’t for the scar, it’d be the first thing people notice.

             “You don’t seem worried about spending so much one-on-one time with a convicted arsonist,” Stan remarked.  Angie snorted.

             “I know they put ya through the wringer ‘fore they let ya join us out here.  And anyways…” She winked and flexed her arms. Stan’s jaw dropped.

             My muscles didn’t look like that when I was at my peak with boxing.

             “…I can take care of myself.”  Angie stood up.  “Nice chattin’ with ya, Pines.  Ya seem like a good sort.  Hope I see ya ‘round.”

             “Uh.  Yeah. You, too,” Stan said, still dumbfounded by Angie’s biceps.  Angie walked away.  Stan stared after her.

             I’ve never seen a woman half as buff as her, holy shit.