#yes this is about adam pascal being back on the west end and me losing my fucking mind about it hello

[feydfuckernation]

i'd like to thank chess for ruining my life so thoroughly and being so incredibly bonkers that i can play three degrees of separation with phantom of the opera, sweeney todd and [checks notes] tsugumi ohba's death note

[gucciwins]

Trouble Follows

Harry’s a firefighter, he believes in accidents not coincidences but that changes when he meets Y/N multiples times at different calls. 

Word count: 8128

A/N: Hello friends, hope you’re well. life has been eventful since the start of the year but when is it not. first story of 2021 and i’m excited to share it. i started this story a few months back (yes chicago fire was an inspiration). firefighter!harry is dear and near to my heart. i do hope you love it and let me know you thoughts. happy reading 

It's the start of a twenty-four-hour shift. 

A day that feels like it may never end until it does. 

 Harry's in the common room with the crew. He's got his black coffee, his first of many for the day, and the morning's paper that Lincoln dropped on the table. There isn't anything impressive; he grabs a pen he sees on the table and begins to do the crossword puzzle. 

10 letters

1. down - crater creator. 

Harry's already lost, and it is only the first one.

He's not good at them, not one bit. Sarah always ends up finishing the crosswords. 

The chatter is loud, and as he slides the newspaper down to Mitch, who will silently hand it over to Sarah. Harry likes the morning buzz; everyone catches up from not seeing each other for forty-eight hours. Although, many do see each other, seeing as they are roommates. Harry used to live with Mitch until he moved in with Sarah last fall after two years of dating. Mitch told him there might be a wedding in the future or, as Sarah likes to joke about all the time, an elopement.

"Morning, H.," Wilson says, patting his shoulder, making his way to the empty coffee awaiting him. Harry knows they are seconds away from an outburst. Wilson can be just a tad bit dramatic. 

The alarms begin to ring as he lifts up the empty pot. "Truck 51, Squad 3, 62, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62 House fire at 5082 North Bell Ave." 

"Looks like we were saved by the bell." Lincoln laughs as they all rush out to get dressed and on the truck as quick as they can. 

Harry and Mitch are out in seconds, never one to lollygag. The rest are quick to follow, slipping on their pants, and the coat quickly follows. Harry looks around, making sure everyone is accounted for before jumping into his spot in the passenger seat, Wilson at the wheel pulling out of the station with the siren blaring.

He watches the city go by as they rush to their destination. There is a lot heard of trees they pass by, and he knows they are passing the city park that is always filled with laughter and Harry knows they will be arriving soon, and as always, he prepares for the worst but hopes for the best. 

They arrive in under ten minutes. It's a nice residential area, one that doesn't make frequent calls. The fire seems under control, not growing, but there is a lot of smoke. "Frankie, Lincoln, make sure these people stay back." 

"You got it, Lieutenant," Lincoln responds quickly, getting to work, Frankie following right behind him.

Harry spots an old woman being held up by a young female his age. The old woman looks distraught by the fire, and Harry knows this must be the owner. 

"Ma'am, I'm Lieutenant Styles. Can you tell me what happened?" He approaches, voice firm, ready to take in the needed information. 

"She inhaled a lot of smoke. Can your paramedic check her out?" Harry's eyes shift to the woman. She's beautiful; she's in grey sweats and an oversized sweater that has what he assumes is Pascal from Tangled coming out of the pocket. Harry shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on her catching her last words. "Still in shock."  

"Sarah," Harry calls out once, and she is quick to rush over. They set the old woman on the stretcher and quickly put an oxygen mask over her. 

"Miss, may you tell me what you know. That way, we figure out the best way to get this fire out." 

She's quick to nod. "Of course, I was on my way over to check on Mrs. Waters like I do every morning, but this time was different. Earl, her next-door neighbor, was outside calling 9-1-1. He told me he didn't see her run out. I rushed in to see her standing on the top steps of her staircase, staring into the burning room. She was coughing a lot, and I rushed her out. She thinks she knocked the candle down in her knitting room when she went down for her tea." She says all that in one breath. "The room is the first door on the left up the stairs. It's the back of the house."

Harry nods at her before turning away. "Mitch, you and Wilson take the hose through the side gate. Spray the room; it's a candle fire. Once it's out, let me know, so we can go in for a sweep through."

"Yes, Lieutenant."

Harry sees Mrs. Waters has begun to calm down and has the color back in her face. He knows they are going to take her down to Med to do a run-through. Harry turns around to speak with the young woman, but he doesn't see her anymore. 

He's about to ask Sarah when he sees Chief Rivera run into a sprint and catches her in his arms. He didn't notice she began to walk away from him and over to the other pedestrians to assure them everything was alright. Harry yells for Esme, worried for the woman.

"I'm good." She barely makes out. "Think the adrenaline has run its course. That's all. I didn't even inhale that much smoke." 

Chief Rivera ignores her protests and sets her on the side of the ambulance. "Please check her out." He directs his orders to Esme. 

"Thanks for saving me, Mr. Chief. That would have led to a nasty concussion." Pascal sweater answers. 

Chief gives her a quick nod before walking away.

"Miss, what's your name," Esme asks her. Putting an oxygen mask over her face and resting it on her nose and mouth. She takes a deep breath before answering. 

"Y/N." 

Beautiful name. It suits her. 

"Do your lungs hurt or your chest?" 

"No, do you think I can ride with Mrs. Waters?" Y/N interrupts Esme with an apologetic smile. "It's just that her granddaughter is her last living relative and lives an hour away. Her husband passed away four months ago. I'm all she's got."

"We've got room for you," Sarah responds, always having a soft spot even though you wouldn't know from her tough exterior. 

Harry walks away, not hearing the rest of the conversation but feeling good that both are okay. He thinks she's crazy for rushing into a burning building with nothing on her to protect her, but he does this for a living, so who is he to judge? 

Mitch gives him the all-clear. 

Harry heads into the building with Frankie and Lincoln, no more thoughts of the beautiful girl he met. 

He's got a job to do, and he has to do it right. They start in the living room before entering the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of what looks like fresh banana bread. He's going to be left with that craving. Harry leads the way up, careful with the stairs just in case of collapse, seeing how black the once blue carpet has turned. There was a lot of damage, and it pains him to see such a well-loved house be affected this way. 

"All clear!" He shouts, making sure Lincoln and Frankie head down before him. 

Once back outside, Harry slips off his helmet. He nods over to Chief Rivera, who gives him a curt nod in return. He turns around to address the crew, "Pack it up." Everyone scatters to gather and put away their tools as quickly as they can. 

All in a day's work, time to head back and hope each call is as successful as this one.

Harry might not tell anyone, but the woman Y/N stays on his mind all day. 

Sitting in his office, getting paperwork done is not something he enjoys. He is good at it, though. 

He's always thorough, a perfectionist. 

It's essential because the Battalion Chief isn't kind at all, and even the smallest mistake on a report can send him on a full-on rage rampage. Thankfully, it's been a few months, and he is on his fourth wife stuck in the honeymoon phase, at least for the time being, giving them all some much-needed peace. 

Harry has an open-door policy; he closes it; he feels he loses that connection to his friends. They may be coworkers, but after everything they have been through, he sees them as family, and one does not close the door on family. 

It is also because he gets to hear all that's going on. Sarah and Mitch were going to visit his family in the upcoming month, and Sarah seemed far more excited than Mitch. Wilson had a new date lined up for the weekend to make up for the next few days he has to spend at work. Esme was talking Frankie's ear off about how she was knitting a new blanket for her niece and how each patch would be a different color with a different meaning.  

He likes how well they all get on. Squad might keep their distance, but everyone does get along. It's not common in firehouses as he's heard from others. The hazing gets taken too far and ever a few male chauvinists. Don't worry, that isn't the one thing the Battalion Chief does not accept; he respects and loves women just doesn't like others' happiness. 

Harry's proud of how far he has come, but most of the family he has become a part of. He knows how lucky he is. It also means he will never take it for granted.

 They are his home away from home. Seeing as his family is an ocean away. 

"Harry." 

He looks up, seeing Mitch staring at him. "How can I help you, Mitchell?"

Mitch rolls his eyes, causing Harry to smirk. "Was wondering what you were doing after shift today?" 

"Asking me on a date? Think Sarah might get jealous." Harry smirks at his best friend.  

"It was her idea." 

Harry smirks is replaced with a sincere smile. "Told you she has a soft spot for me." 

"Dinner at my place? Have a few drinks, watch one of your favorite romantic comedies." Mitch suggests not at all like him to do so. 

Harry was about to say yes when the alarm started ringing. "Truck 51, Squad 3, Battalion 25, Ambulance 62." A brief pause, "School fire 1260 West Adams."

"That's the small elementary school up the street," Harry tells him, shooting up from his chair and out the door to get in the protective gear.

Harry knows this fire won't be easy, but he's with the best of the best and knows it'll be alright. He knows they are approaching, and he always likes to go over how he wants things to be handled before getting out, but more significant fires need more focus. He also knows they all fall under the Chief's orders today and not his. 

"Mitch and Wilson go in together. You know how it goes. Get everyone to head out, and our priority is getting the fire out" Harry looks back, getting a silent nod. "Candidate, how are you feeling?" 

"Ready, Lieutenant." She answers confidently. 

Harry gives her a sharp look, knowing he's got nothing to worry about her. Frankie is one of the best firefighters truck 51 has ever had. "Good, you'll be going in with Lincoln." 

"What about you, Lieutenant?" Lincoln can't help but ask.

"I'm sure the Chief is going in. I'm going to stick with him." Harry knows his Chief well, and nothing will stop him from helping out. 

Wilson parks right out front, and Harry can't see any smoke coming out. At least, not yet. 

Harry is met with who he assumes is the principal; he didn't have time for an introduction. The woman explained there was a science lab gone wrong and that the sprinklers did not go off. They rushed everyone out quickly, following the fire drill procedures.

These kids are panicked but are being pointed towards an exit, and not until after the fire is controlled can they make sure everyone is counted for. Harry knows they have to work swiftly and make sure no one gets left inside. 

A man with glasses and a smoked black salmon shirt approached them, and Harry assumed by the looks of it he was the teacher that was part of the fire. "The bunsen burner caught fire. I don't know why. We've done this experiment for years without accidents." 

He eyes a few students wet and can assume the sprinklers went off much later than they would have liked. It means the fire has lessened, and it was safer to go in. 

"We'll take care of it." He assures them. 

"Get two hose lines in there." Chief Rivera directs right away. "Truck, Squad search, and evacuate. Let's go." 

Everyone moves and begins to make their way into the burning building. It's a small two-story building; he sees frightened first graders to fifth graders watching him as he makes his way inside. 

"Keep moving," Chief Rivera says to teachers ushering students out. 

Harry knows Sarah and Esme have many people to look after and hope that more help can get there sooner rather than later. 

As he makes his way inside, he feels the alarm ringing in his ears as he follows close behind Chief. It's something he's used to but doesn't mean he likes it.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts. He scans each room, not seeing anything and continuing on.  

They make way to where the fire is, and it's growing. 

Harry can see a bunsen burner tipped on its side. He takes a step towards the classroom and see's another tipped over but with a tear in it. It seems that one ripped and caught a spark setting the fire off. 

"Chief, we need to get the gas off, or it'll only continue to grow." Harry looks over at Jorge, both waiting for the order to go in. 

Chief speaks into his radio, asking where the gas shut off is located. Harry hears Florence recite back what a male voice told him to the Chief.

"Gas tank is in the backroom; it should shut it off. Be careful." His voice gruff. 

"You got it." 

Jorge leads, and Harry follows behind right on his heel. It only grows hotter as they make their way inside. He hugs the right side of the room, making sure to avoid the growing fire. 

Jorge reaches to shut it when Harry notices a second one. "Jorge, there's two. We need to shut them at the same time." Harry hurries over. "Ready, turn!" 

It clicks shut, and they let out a deep breath. Jorge pats Harry on the shoulder in acknowledgment. 

"Let's head out. They need to hose this down." 

Harry nods and follows him out, moving much faster this time. As quick as he was in the building, he now stands outside of it. He slips his helmet off, wanting to lose some pressure. 

"Hey Chief, the fire's out." Lincoln comes out to inform. 

Chief responds with a grunt, turning to the principal, holding a binder with lots of overflowing papers. 

"What's the count?" Everyone holds their breath, waiting for the news. Squad prepared to go in if necessary.

"Everyone Is accounted for, Chief." She responds, a shaky smile on her face. 

"Good." 

Harry lets out the breath he was holding. There was no real injury today, and he is thankful for being burnt in a fire is not easy, and he knows that from experience. 

His crew had begun to clean up already, and he was about to join when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turns to see a familiar woman but waits for her to speak; after all, she approached him. 

"Hello, Lieutenant." She greets with a small smile. "There was no injury right. I checked over my students but want to know everyone else is safe." 

"Injuries there were none unless you count Lincoln tripping into the truck on the way here." Harry jokes, not sure at all what made him break his seriousness. 

She laughs. It's music to his ears.

He would enjoy being able to hear it again.

"Our team got everyone oxygen that needed it. The students and teachers are looking fine, and I assume parents have been informed of the incident." 

"Called and picked up as soon as you clear out." 

Harry stares at her for another second; she's wearing a lilac knitted sweater with bell-bottom jeans. He chuckles looks like he isn't the only one still wearing them out and about. 

"You're from the North Bell fire," Harry tells her. He acts like her name slipped his mind, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. Her face and her name have not left his mind since that day. It's as if it has been imprinted. 

"Yeah, Mrs. Waters. Good memory." She nods at him, obviously impressed. "She's good, staying with her granddaughter for the time being." 

"That's nice to hear." Harry knows their conversation is coming to an end. 

 "Well, thank you for lessening my concern. Have a good day, Lieutenant Styles." She flashes him a broad smile, her eyes shining bright, keeping him entranced even after she walks away from him.

Harry watches her walk away, how she kneels down to talk to a young girl who was crying. Wipes her tears away with a handkerchief, she pulled out of her pocket. Little girl eventually laughs; it rings loud throughout the mess that way today; a child's laugh uplifting in a moment of darkness. It truly is the small things in life that should be appreciated. 

 His thoughts drift back to Y/N; what are the odds he runs into her just one week later. 

She's pretty; he's not going to lie. He'd ask her on a date if he were to meet her at a bar, but no, never on the job. 

If it's happened twice, maybe he's lucky enough for a third. 

Although he hopes under better circumstances. 

Harry had gone unbothered for over two hours, which is too long in the firehouse. He got the majority of his work done and decided to leave his office to find out what everyone was up to. 

He was not surprised to see them in the common room, but he was shocked to see them all munching on cookies and not just any kind. They were snickerdoodle cookies, and they smelled divine like his mother had just taken them out of the oven with his watchful gaze eyeing every single one. 

"Those smell amazing." Harry was quick to say eagerly, wanting someone to hand him one or five. 

"Home-baked," Sarah calls out through a mouth full of cookies she was chewing.

Harry laughs because he knew that already. He reaches into the box in front of Mitch but is met with a slap on his wrist, and Harry quickly pulls back. 

"Oi, that's not very kind of you, Mitchie." 

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, but Frankie walks by a smaller box in hand, 'Lieutenant' written on top in elegant writing, and shoves it into his chest. He grabs it quickly, not wanting it to fall. 

"Who brought them?" Harry asks because whoever baked something so heavily deserves all the praise, and he is more than ready to give it. 

He opens his box and bites into the still-warm cookie. He holds back a moan, not up for the others teasing, but it truly is the best cookie he has ever eaten. 

"It was the woman from the school fire, the one that approached you in the end," Sarah tells him, her hand reaches for a new cookie. 

Harry frowns; she was here and missed her. No one thought to call him to come out. 

If he is honest, he hasn't been able to get her off his mind. Two short interactions, and it is as if she has put him under a spell. He lets out a low chuckle at the thought.

He always tells others he has no time for a relationship, but the truth is he hopes for love. He just doesn't want it to be one night of passion. He wants endless nights, where it ends cuddling with the same person with constant whispers of I love you. 

He's a hopeless romantic. 

Harry would happily marry this woman. Although trouble does seem to follow her. 

It might not be something he needs in life, especially in his line of work.

Golden's. 

A safe haven. 

A place that feels like home, where firefighters, paramedics, and doctors come for a drink and a good time. The perfect place to come drink away your sorrows with a shoulder to cry on in every corner—the ideal place to celebrate significant accomplishments with the friends that have slowly become your family.

 Esme, a paramedic, and Jorge, a firefighter work at Firehouse 19 with Harry; they are the ones who opened up Golden's three years ago. Esme wanted a place to make creative drinks, and Jorge, well, he loved crunching numbers in his spare time, leading to this bar's birth. 

Hanging on the walls are pictures of all their family and friends. Harry is proud to be displayed on the wall multiple times, and he loves each photo taken. His favorite being one that is hung right under what he calls his table. It's a photo of all of Firehouse 19 after he was made Lieutenant. Everyone in their uniforms dressed to the nines. Chief Rivera had the biggest smile on his face, as did Harry. Everyone around him had cheered for him, and they then all headed to Golden's for a celebration where his mother and sister were among his firehouse family. That picture always brings a smile to his face. 

Harry sits there at his table with Mitch, his best friend, who he met entering the academy from the moment Harry said hello, and Mitch grunted in return he hasn't been able to shake Harry off, but they wouldn't have it any other way. 

Harry has been told he has a lively personality, always conversing with those around him; Mitch was mellow, a wallflower. Mitch came to life around Sarah; Harry joked how he had heart eyes around her. Sarah is a force to be reckoned with. The kindest smile but the highest walls, she dropped them down without a second thought for Mitch, seeing as he was the one to make conversation with her when she was transferred from Station 25. Harry admires her strength and quick thinking. She had a dream of being a doctor but is happy as a paramedic for the time being. 

The fourth seat at their table always remains empty, open to anyone wanting to sit down for a conversation, but never permanent. Harry knows as well as Mitch that it's being saved. Saved for that certain someone to walk into his life.

He's left wondering if he's finally met her. 

Harry spots Esme free and gets up from his table to sit at the bar asking for two beers knowing Mitch will join him. He doesn't try to start a conversation, thoroughly enjoying the buzz of conversation around him and the comfort of Mitch next to him.  

It's been three days since the high school fire and two days since the cookies, and all he can think about is Y/N. If he had to guess she was a teacher, he forgot to ask too focused on the fire yet too stunned to ask her why she was there. She had been quick to have everyone checked for and was most relieved when he confirmed everyone was counted for. 

Harry was sure he'd never see her again, that she'd cross his path, and that was it. No, instead, he sees her less than a week later, but he made no move to ask her out even though he knows she's interested. At least it seems like she was. She didn't have to approach him that second time or send him his own box of cookies. If he were to meet her now, he wouldn't think twice about asking her out but meeting her out while on the job, he wouldn't let her be a distraction. 

"What's got you thinking so hard?" Mitch says, interrupting his internal debate. 

Harry takes a drink of his beer. "Nothing." He sighs. "At least I think it's nothing." 

"That woman from the high school fire." Mitch states. 

Harry chuckles; nothing gets past him. "Yeah, don't know why. She seems to invade my thoughts, and all I know is her name and that accidents happen around her." 

"Maybe she's a firebug," Mitch suggests. 

"She's not an arsonist." Harry nudges Mitch. "Don't joke about that. Her aura's too bright. You saw how she was with the students and teachers." 

Mitch laughs. "Aura, what are you talking about?" 

"Oii, leave me alone. I told you I got into meditating and have been doing lots of reading. Gem sent me this book about seeing and feeling it. Your aura gets brighter around Sarah." 

Mitch's cheeks go red about to respond when his phone rings. "Speaking of." Harry sips his beer as Mitch takes his phone out.

"I'm taking this outside; she's checking in for the night. Letting me know she's alright." Mitch says, finishing off his beer. Sarah was out visiting family for the weekend, and Mitch couldn't join, so Harry was more than happy to keep him company.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "I didn't say anything." 

His eyes follow Mitch outside, watching him hold the door open, phone to his ear when he sees her walk in. She's dressed in skin-tight jeans, hugging her hips nicely. A white silk top and completing the look is a black leather jacket. Harry shits in his seat, she looks fantastic, but he might need a shot or two to get the courage to go over to her. 

Harry downs the two tequila shots Jorge placed in front of him, turning to look back at her when he sees two guys with her. It seems they know her well, standing so close to her. One has a hand on her back, and Harry's confidence deflates. 

She's got a boyfriend, of course, she does. 

The men are good looking Harry hates to admit, he knows he's attractive, but those two might give him a run for his money. They tower over her, like guards protecting a queen. She walks forward, both men trailing behind. She does a quick scan of the room as she approaches the bar, and smirk forms on her face as her eyes meet him for a brief second. 

His view is quickly blocked when a female embraces her in a hug. She pulls back, and Harry is surprised to see that the friend is Frankie. 

Frankie is the candidate he welcomed onto his truck six months ago. Frankie is remarkable, goes after what she wants, and gets along well with everyone. Chief Rivera was impressed from the start, and that's hard to do. 

Harry sits there watching, wondering which one could be her boyfriend. The blonde has a good chance he has his arm thrown over her shoulder casually, but she doesn't lean into him. That makes him smile. Brings back the small confidence he has left. The group laughs at something the redhead said, and she reaches up to kiss the redhead's cheek so it could be him. Harry wants them to come this way and have Frankie introduce them, but they stay far enough where he can't hear their conversation, only her sweet laugh. He looks away but turns once more when he sees movement in the corner of his eye. It's Frankie wrapping her arms around redhead's neck and kissing him on the lips. The blonde has his eyes on someone across the bar, and just like that, Harry can breathe again. Y/N lifts her gaze and catches him staring; she sends him a sly wink before whispering something in Frankie's ear. 

No boyfriend. That's good; it means Harry might have a shot after all. 

He hears Frankie pass behind him, meaning she also passed by. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

He startles when he hears a voice next to him order an old-fashioned. He knows it's her.

"Hey there, Lieutenant" She's leaning against the bar smiling at him. "Frankie was telling me you've never had a woman as a candidate." She says, taking a step forward into his space. Frankie comes behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She acts all tough, but between you and me, it's all an act." She raises her drink to take a sip. "Just like you." 

"Sorry about her Harry, we don't take her out enough to know how to act around others." Frankie jokes as she walks off with her three beers. 

"Ouch." Y/N laughs as she watches Frankie walk away from them. 

"You're very forward, firebug." Harry comments 

She shrugs. "So I've been told." Y/N pauses acknowledging the nickname. "Did you call me an arsonist?" 

Harry's eyes go wide. How does she know the term? "No, of course not. I know you didn't start those fires, but two run-ins around a fire the nickname is kind of perfect." 

It really is. Harry hopes she agrees. 

"Alright, Styles, I'll accept the term of endearment. As long as I'm the only one." 

"Wouldn't want anyone else," Harry answers truthfully.

She looks him up and down clearly, not hiding she's checking him out. Harry feels confident in his outfit for the evening. He's wearing a vintage 'Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey' shirt tucked into black flared corduroy jeans. Her gaze stays on his forearms, admiring the tattoos. Her gaze lingers on the mermaid as if she wants to raise her finger and trace around it. 

"So, you've been hiding all that under roughly 45 pounds of gear give or take the weight of items." She tuts, shaking her head. "What a shame." 

"Not like I can do my job without the gear, makes running into a burning building easier." 

"I suppose." Y/N smirks, a glimmer in her eye. "How fast do you have to put on the gear?"  

He narrows his eyes at her, not knowing where she's going with this. "Under two minutes. Gets faster as time goes by." He answers cautiously. 

"Pretty sure, I could undress you in less than that. Leave you in your boxers, or do you prefer briefs." She takes a sip of her whiskey. "Maybe you don't like using it, heard they could be constricting." 

Harry can't help the blush that takes over his cheeks; he's never met someone so forward. He wants to get to know her, and by the looks of it, she feels the same way. 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in the other's face. Harry notices the smallest detail, like the small scar close to her eyebrow. He catches the peaking of a tattoo from under her jacket. He's really intrigued now. 

"It's Harry." He says, bringing his hand out to shake, knowing he's never appropriately introduced himself like she has. 

She grabs it and leans in close. "Personally, I like Lieutenant." He shifts slowly, but then she gestures down without breaking eye contact. "Think you do as well."

She finishes her drink and sets it back down. She places a twenty on the counter to cover the cost of her drink and his. "I'll see you around, Lieutenant Harry." 

She's out of sight in the next few seconds. 

He wants her, more than for just a night. Harry wants to be the reason she laughs, the reason she smiles but most importantly, the one she gets to love. He has it bad. He's never met someone so forward and direct with their flirting; he really loved the attention. 

 Now that he knows Frankie has a connection to her, Harry knows he'll see her soon. Who knows when that is. He'll be counting the seconds until then.

Mitch walks in and sits next to Harry, pocketing his phone. "Miss anything interesting?" 

Harry throws his head back and groans. "You have no idea."

Friday's are never the same. Harry feels like he can never prepare for these days. They had just gotten back from a call; it was a kitchen stove fire gone wrong. It was an in and out; a fire extinguisher was really all they needed. The family was very thankful. He was just glad they were smart enough to turn the stove off. 

Harry had just grabbed a seat when the alarm began to ring. He knows everyone is holding back a groan, but it's their job. Sometimes there are either too many breaks or not enough. 

"Pin in accident, Columbus Drive Bridge." 

Harry is quick to dress, finishing first. He taps the side of the truck, "Let's go, let's go!" Everyone picks up the speed, and they are out in seconds. Wilson is not light on the honking, knowing an accident on the bridge is never good. 

"Alright, candidate, remember to walk with a purpose, don't run." Harry begins. 

Frankie nods. "Access the details before you act." She finishes off for him.

"Good." 

The police are on the scene keeping back the curious group of people that have gathered. Harry shakes his head. All people love having a front-row view of accidents. 

The accident looks bad, two cars: one car seems abandoned, a door left wide open. It seems to him that was who caused the accident, good things the police can run their plates. In the second car, the passenger seat door is jammed, there is glass everywhere. There is one person in the driver's seat, a blanket over them.

Harry approaches the vehicle seeing Wilson already assessing the passenger and how best to take them out. 

"Female, mid 20's," Wilson calls out. 

Harry sees her door is jammed in. "We need to pry open her door before getting her out. The hit was all on the passenger side, but please be careful we don't know her injuries." 

Lincoln gets to work, Harry stands to the side, waiting to cut the driver's belt and out of the car.

"She had a blanket over her. The glass missed her face, but one got her abdomen. She's a funny one, taking the pain like a champ. She said she's a nurse so knows it didn't hit an organ." Sarah tells him, as she spoke to her from the back window wanting to best prepare for when they get her on the stretcher. 

"Ma'am, how you doing? We are doing our best to get you out." Harry tells her, seeing the door being removed, quickly moving in to remove her seatbelt, which saved her life. 

"Thought we were on a first-name basis, Lieutenant." She speaks quietly, voice trembly. 

He steps back in shock, seeing her remove the blanket from her face. Her face clean of injury, Stevie Nicks' shirt red and ripped. She's hurt and laughing, but he feels like his heart wants to jump out of his throat.

It's Y/N. 

There's blood, and she's injured, but she's okay.

She's fine. 

She's alive.

He never wants to see her like this again. 

"Took years to find this exact shirt. Got it for a steal at $10." She groans jokingly. "Do you have a remedy to wash out blood?"

"In fact, I do; how about I help you with it once you get these stitches?" Harry tells her, hoping to keep the conversation going, keeps her calm as it is doing for him. 

"Asking me on a date on the job. Not very professional." She teases him.

"How do I know you didn't cause this accident just to see me?" He banters back. 

He has her in his arms, taking her out slowly. She has very few injuries; he's carrying her to the stretcher when he hears her cries. 

"It wasn't my fault you have to know." She cries out. "It was green, it really was, I promise. There are traffic cameras here, so check. I waited a few seconds then went and next thing I know I have the blanket over me. I've got quick reflects." She smiles slightly at the thought. "A nice lady told me help was on the way." Harry wipes her tears away. "I was on my way to the grocery store. Annie, my neighbor, wanted brownies, and I told her I would run to the store to get the items. She's going to be so upset." 

"Not your fault, I believe you. Everyone here does." His heart is breaking. She doesn't deserve to feel this, especially when the other driver got away scratch-free, it seems. 

"I'm the safest driver out there. I've never gotten a ticket, not even a parking one. When I took my driving test, I passed with zero errors. They said it hasn't happened in years." She groans as they load her into the ambulance. 

"I believe you. Your insurance must love you." He comments, getting a small laugh out of her. 

"Tell Frankie to send me flowers. I don't like coming home to no flowers." 

Esme slams the door shut, and off they go. 

He knows Frankie saw and heard; he knows Chief is with her. As good as one is doing their job, once family is involved, it's quick to lose one's focus. Harry knows he has to check on her once they are back at the station. He's going to encourage her to see her friend, not having to worry about the end of the shift because when it comes to family, that is their priority. 

Harry knows Mitch is watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to give him any kind of sign he's not okay, but he knows better. He's not allowed to break down in front of his crew. Not something he lets himself do. 

Instead, he does what he knows best. He gives orders.  

"Pack up back to the station."

Just like that, they begin to load up the truck, everything in their rightful place, but all he can think about is Y/N and if she truly is going to be okay. 

Harry is pacing outside her door. 

Yes, he got her address. He had to know how she was doing. Frankie was kind enough to give it to him, not without a few warnings. As in if he did anything to upset her, she knew how to handle a halligan. Harry dares not to cross her. He, after all, has only honorable intentions for Y/N.

He takes a deep breath before raising his hand and knocking three times. He quickly takes a step back, not wanting to be too close when she opens the door if she opens the door. 

It swings open, and there she stands in an oversized t-shirt and grey joggers. "I have been wondering when you would show." She grins at him. 

Harry's eyes widened. "You knew I was coming?"

She nods. "Of course, Frankie had to make sure it was okay to give my address to a man I've only had one proper conversation with." 

"It was two, really." Harry jokes. 

"Two then." She smiles down at her feet, starting to feel bashful under his watchful gaze. That is when her eyes catch sight of the gift in his hands. 

"You brought me flowers." She exclaims, reaching for the pink peonies, and he quickly extends his hand for her to take them.

"Wasn't sure your favorite. These reminded me of you and how beautiful you are." He shares, feeling his cheeks heat up, running a hand on the back of his neck, wanting her to say something and save himself from embarrassment. 

"Thank you." She sniffs them. "I've always loved peonies, don't think I've ever been gifted them before." She moves to the side and gestures him to come in.

"Would you like something to drink? I would have offered you food, but I didn't cook tonight; Frankie dropped off Chinese for one." She gives him a small smile to make up for it.

"It's no problem; after the day you had, my well being is not of your concern," Harry tells her, happy to accept the water she handed him.

"See, you're wrong, Styles." Harry frowns, meeting her eyes as she continues on. "You have a dangerous job, so I feel I do have a right to worry about you." 

"Fair enough." 

Harry sips his water, and she does the same. He assumes she's trying to collect her thoughts. That is what he's trying to do. 

He loses his train of thought as he begins to take in the yellow-painted cabinets; the hue holds a softness that allows them to stretch from floor to ceiling without feeling overwhelming. Brown granite countertops and hardwood floors temper the yellow; the bronze hardware marries the two colors. He's never felt so calm and safe in a kitchen. 

Back to his thinking, a good reason to tell her why he came to visit her because indeed she'll have to ask.  

It could be his crush on her, a growing infatuation. At this point, it might be like already. 

One goal before he leaves her house is well-- to have asked her on a date. 

Harry's train of thought is broken as she begins to speak.

"I want to apologize for breaking down in your arms. That wasn't right of me." 

Harry scoots closer, placing a ringed hand on top of hers, resting on the counter; this causes her to look up at him. "Hey firebug, no need to apologize. It was a tough situation. The crew said you handled it really well." He smiles and gives her hand a squeeze. "I'm happy you're okay." 

She nods and lets his words hang in the air for a minute. "I made brownies, and Annie helped me. She did the heavy lifting today. Do you want some?"

Harry knows she changed topics because she felt overwhelmed, and he was happy to follow her lead. "I'd love to try these brownies. If they were as good as your cookies, then I might just eat them all." 

A huge grin takes over her face at his confession; he accomplished exactly what he was looking for. 

"You loved the cookies?" She asks. 

"Loved honestly might have shed a tear when I ate the last one. Your cookies are what I assume they give to eat in heaven." He jokes but very much meaning each word.

"Thank you, I'll be sure to take more down to the station soon." Y/N blushes looking away from Harry's piercing gaze. 

"You know, I didn't even ask you how you're doing." Harry laughs, forgetting the reason he came over.

She laughs with him. "I did as well; if you'd ask me, it feels like a regular date night." 

Y/N doesn't blush at her words, but Harry sure does. "Date night, huh." She nods. "I'd be up for more nights like this." 

"Good to know." 

They stare at each other for a few seconds taking in each other's smile and how easy it is together. 

"Back to your original question, I'm doing good. Only needed five stitches and should heal up nicely." She puts her hand over her injury as if remembering the pain. 

"Well, I'm glad you're well. I'm a phone call away if you ever need anything." 

She all but glows at his words. "I'll keep that in mind." 

After a while, Harry helps her move over to the couch, wanting her to be comfortable. He fixes her pillows a few times, wanting her to not feel any kind of pain. Y/N just basks in the attention; it's not everyday she has a firefighter fawning over her. 

Time with Y/N seems to fly by because the next time his eyes catch sight of the time, it's nearing nine pm. He can tell she's knackered, but he and neither she sees an end in their conversation. It just flows so easy and who are they to try to stop it. 

Harry is learning about why she moved to the city and how she has an interview next week for the pediatrics department at Med. Also, she was at the school because she volunteers weekly; Miss Lucy is a teacher Y/N went to uni with and likes doing fun activities with the nine-year-old. 

Harry truly doesn't understand how she has so much to give to others, but he's glad to be receiving some of it as well. He hopes to give her back half of what she gives to others. 

"I've always seemed to find myself in trouble. Never the cause of it, but it's always around. I always thought it was me, and it seems to be true." Y/N shares with him. She has struggled with growing up; she may have many friends, but she doesn't stay in a place long enough to make herself feel at home, but so far, it has been different. 

Harry sees how much her words hurt to say. He leans over and grabs her hand. He squeezes it tightly before intertwining their fingers together. He really loves holding her hand, and he hopes she continues to allow him to do so. 

"Where angels go, trouble follows." Harry breathes out, never breaking eye contact with her. It takes every fiber in his body not to reach over and plant his lips on hers. He so badly wants her to believe his words because he knows he does. 

She truly is an angel from above, and he is lucky enough to be welcomed into her life. 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but never breaks eye contact with Harry. 

They fall silent, basking in what seems to be their final moments together for the night. 

"I should really get going, poppet. Got to let you get your rest." She nods and lets him help her up so she can walk him to the door. 

"Do you believe in faith?" She asks as they stand outside the door. 

He shrugs. "I never believed in all of that stuff, but in a matter of a few weeks, I've run into you four times, and I wouldn't leave that up to luck. I thank whatever brought us together and that they'll keep us together."

"I like that a lot."

He kisses her cheek softly. "As soon as those stitches are out, will you let me take you out on a date?" 

"I'd prefer something sooner, but I can wait." She teases.

Harry nods; he feels like he does a lot of blushing around her. He really enjoys how she makes him feel. 

"I'll check in tomorrow." He promises. 

"Just so you know, if I need anything, I won't be calling for firehouse 51." He stops. "I'll be calling this guy that has a thing for me that runs into burning buildings for a living."

"Any time of the day, I promise I'll answer the call, poppet." 

He had just put his seatbelt on when his phone began to ring. Harry picks it up, never breaking eye contact with her. 

"Lieutenant, I need some help. See, I was in an accident today, and I know it might seem a little strange, maybe a bit forward." She bits her lip, not yet breaking the intense eye contact. "I could really use a cuddle to feel better. Do you know anyone that can help out with that?" 

Harry shakes his head at her but nonetheless shoots her a dimpled smile. He jumps out of his car and strolls up to her—phone in hand, beautiful smile on her face.

"I would be honored." He leans in and connects his lips to her cheek; he lets it linger for a few seconds before pulling away. "Now, let's get you in bed. I heard from a little birdie you don't kiss before a first date, so the sooner you heal, the better." 

Y/N lets out a small groan at Frankie. "Maybe I can make an exception." 

Harry doesn't hide the surprise on his face at her words. "You certainly will make life more interesting." 

She giggles as she leads him to her room, Harry following closely behind.

Harry knows they were meant to walk into each other's life. The feelings he is starting to feel for her something he has never felt before. 

Call him cliche, but a never-ending spark has been ignited. 

thank you so much for reading! i love you

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taglist: @bigspoonstyles​ @taintedwonder​ @sunflowersupremacy​

[crw1025]

“Without You”

In 2006, Anthony Rapp came out with his first ever novel titled Without You: a Memoir of Love, Loss, and the Musical Rent. Rapp starts the book by remembering the day he auditioned for a workshop for the musical Rent. He mentioned that he was running late that day due to being at a Memorial Service for his Bill. He described the feeling of being late for his audition and rushing to the New York Theatre Workshop on his roller skates. “...glanced at my watch: no way was I going to be on time for my audition...I raced to get my shoes off and my skates and helmet of, and launched myself into traffic, my skates gliding and buzzing, my arms pumping, my breath quickening, my skin relishing the balmy autumnal breeze that flowed around me.” When he got to his audition, he went in, gave his music to the pianist, Tim (who directed the band for the workshop, off-broadway, and Broadway performances of Rent), and went to center stage to perform his audition piece. And while he sang R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion”, he felt right where he belonged. “I loved the way the song felt in my voice, right in the pocket, so I wasn’t straining to hit any notes; I was just soaring on the melody and pouring myself into it...as I sang, my arms splayed out to my sides, my chest full.” Once he was finished with his audition, the director, Michael Greif, introduced him to Jonathan Larson, who created Rent, and immediately gave him a tape of a song from the musical to perform for his callback. Rapp was thrilled and began memorizing the song. He came back to the theatre a few days later and sang the song for them twice. The next day, he got the role. This was the day that marked a change in Anthony’s life. He worked and performed the show for four weeks and met Daphne Rubin-Vega who also reprised her role as Mimi Marquez when Rent performed off-broadway which ended up being sent to the Nederlander Theatre on Broadway.

The beginning of Rent was the beginning of a new era for Anthony Rapp, not only with his career, but also in his personal life. In his memoir, he goes into depth about his mother’s impending illness (a tumor that she named Wild Bill), his relationship with his then boyfriend Todd, Jonathan Larson’s sudden death, and performing Rent.

Through the years that he cover in his book, the emotion undeniably there. When Larson asked Rapp to reprise his role as Mark Cohen, there was no doubt in his mind when he says yes. Rapp constantly mentioned how much he loved this role and how grateful he was to have the chance to play Mark more than once. His only regret was not being able to say thank you to the person who gave him these opportunities, Jonathan Larson. Jonathan and Anthony had formed a friendship over the year from when they first met. Anthony even invited Jonathan to his birthday party.

Larson had passed away on January 25, 1996 from an aortic aneurysm, which, if it had been diagnosed properly to begin with, could have been treated and could have saved his life. Rapp described that day wholeheartedly. He described how he felt so empty and was unable to cry until he made it to the theatre, where he saw Daphne. “...we both rushed into each other’s arms, and that’s when at last I started to cry, pressing Daphne to me… It was as if I’d been waiting for her embrace to allow me to unleash my sadness…” Everyone was sad and angry about his death.

That day, they decided to have a closed theatre of just Jonathan’s family and friend as the cast just sang the songs he had written, realizing how oddly perfect they fit the situation.

Rapp’s mother’s illness took a huge toll on him and it eventually lead to him getting very angry all the time. He was having constant fights with his then boyfriend Todd about they way Anthony had been acting and treating their relationship and it got even worse after Rapp’s mother eventually passed away. With the way he bottled everything up inside of himself, Rapp one day, just before a showing of Rent on Jesse Martin’s (Tom Collins) last performance, got in a heated argument with Todd which lead to him storming off and Rapp, consumed with grief and not wanting their relationship to end, exploded in anger and sadness. He describes how he kept hitting him which seemed more out of sadness than in anger. Jesse and Norbert [Adam Pascal’s (Roger) understudy] eventually got Rapp away from Todd. The stage manager, Adam, and Jesse helped him through that brief moment of insanity and got him back on his feet. Him and Todd made up and Rapp started going to counseling in order to help him deal with everything that was going on in his life.

The way the book was written gave the reader not only insight into his life during that time,  but also into his past. For example, he talked about coming to terms with his sexuality in a way that helped us also understand the conflict that he and his mom had previously had about it. It also gave us context to when, many months before her death, she told her son that she accepted him for who he was and that it was okay to talk to her about relationships he was in.

At the end of the book, Rapp summarized his life from when he took his last bow to when he finished writing his memoir. He and Todd had broken up, but were on good terms, and he was in a relationship with a man named Rodney, and that they were talking about adopting. He reprised his role at West End with Adam Pascal, Jesse Martin, and Wilson Jeramine Heredia (Angel). And overall his life was good, even if the loss of his mom still haunted him so many years later.

But the finale didn’t end there. He described the day he filmed the scene where he was walking in the street, singing “What You Own” (a song Jonathan Larson had added into the musical after the workshop. He had written the song specifically for Anthony). This was Rapp’s favorite song of the whole show and he was so thrilled to be able to reprise his role of Mark Cohen once again, but this time, it was for the whole world to see in theatres.

Rapp, Anthony. (2006). Without You: A Memior of Love, Loss, and the Musical Rent. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster Paperbacks.