Smoke was like glitter, no matter what you did with it, it got everywhere. The scent lingered, the soot got in your pores, for days after you fought a bad one you heard the echoing crackles in your ears. You could try all you want but it stayed with you. At least it did him.

Mason ducked his head as he hopped down off of the truck. His nose dragged over the shoulder of his t-shirt, wrinkled at the stench of smoke clinging to him. The fire had started in the yard of a house as a home owner decided to test their turkey fryer before thanksgiving. The test had exploded while the guy was in the house grabbing himself a beer to go with the turkey he’d just dumped into the roasting hot oil. Luckily he had or it might not only have been the garage they had to put out. Boiling oil had shot out in a twenty foot radius, shrapnel and coals from the oil drum he’d used as a makeshift fryer peppering the side of the house and the garage. It’d taken close to an hour to get everything doused and the guy’s cuts from the flying glass of what had been his kitchen window patched up.

As low man on the totem pole the worst bits of clean up had been his. Mason grimaced, rubbing his wrists together to try and get rid of the line of soot that ringed where his gloves had ended. Something always snuck past their gear. As the rest of the guys traipsed inside, some heading for the shower, some in search of food he headed into the locker room to scrub his hands and arms down. A fresh t-shirt from his locker doused most of the scent but he knew the only thing that’d entirely get rid of it was a hot shower and complete change of clothes. It was in his future, but not yet. He had another stop to make first.

Trailing the last of the guys off the truck into the living quarters, Mason half grinned. Bree’s ambo hadn’t been called out. She’d gotten to stay here while he’d had a baptism by turkey fryer. He eased up behind her where she sat at the long table that usually rang to the sound of cutlery and raised voices. Ducking his head, Mason pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, dropped his head a couple more inches and touched one to her neck.

As it always seemed to these days, one hand slid down to her stomach, curled over the life growing inside. His thumb brushed over that subtle curve, the short damp hair around his face he’d just splashed with soap and water tickling at her neck as he rested his chin on her shoulder. ”Hey,” he murmured. ”Thought you might’ve been called out before we got back. How are you doing?” It was a question he’d asked more and more since that little white stick had shown they were gonna be parents. Hell, it was a question everywhere at the moment, everybody testing the waters to see if they were infected so to speak. It was more than that with Bree though, a trip to the hospital for anything with the baby now another risk on top of the ones they were taking on the job every day.

Tagged: @bree * Word Count: 565