Looks Like I've Been Fooled Again (Day 1: Shenanigans/Pranks)
Happy @saldelucaweek26 everyone!!!
Summary: It's unfortunate that Sal's first day as interim captain as the 118 lands on April 1. (This fic happens in a magical, fake place and time where the 118 doesn’t have Captain Chim yet. Go with the flow.)
Read on AO3 or below
Sal was not a whimsical guy.
He knew how to let loose and have a good time. He wasn’t some miserable sad sack, he just wasn’t into goofy, silly shit.
Especially not at work.
He was filling in as interim captain at the 118. He figured it was a try-out, since his captain at the 122 announced that he’d be retiring in June and Sal immediately expressed his interest to the Chief.
Unfortunately, his first shift with at the 118 fell on April 1st.
What a stupid fucking day.
The day started with a call from his baby sister that she was in jail and using her one phone call to beg him to come get her out. After his pulse ratcheted up to heart attack levels and he told her to stay put and say nothing without a lawyer, she cackled and shouted “APRIL FOOLS”.
Sal hung up on her.
He was tying his shoes when his older brother Tony called.
“Tory, you gotta help me. I was arrested-”
“Nice try, asshole,” Sal shouted. “Teeny beat you to it.”
On his drive to the station (which was too damn long, he missed his old apartment) his mom called.
“Good morning sweetheart. Are you on your way to work?”
“Yeah, Ma,” Sal said as he stared at traffic, glad he’d budgeted a lot of time to get there.
”That Tory on the phone?” Sal heard his dad yell in the background.
”Yes, dear, it’s Tory!” his mom shouted back.
Sal heard the click of the receiver, his dad picking up another phone on their landline. “Hey son, good luck today. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” he said, then chuckled. “Or, I mean, save lives.”
“Thanks Pops,” Sal said.
“Oh no!” his mom said suddenly, and far too theatrically.
“Trish, what’s the matter?” Sal’s dad called out.
“A mouse just ran across the kitchen floor!”
Sal rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help his smile. It was cute when his parents attempted a prank, not so much his siblings.
“Oh yeah, Ma?”
“Tory, will you come over after your shift and try to catch it?”
“You sure Pops can’t do it?” Sal said.
“Tory, c’mon, you know my sciatica…” his dad started.
“And when I show up are you gonna have that damn fake rubber rat of yours sitting on the kitchen floor?” Sal asked.
Sal’s mom scoffed. “I would never.”
“Bye guys. Love you,” Sal said.
His parents returned a chorus of ‘I love you’ and ‘Good luck!’ before Sal hung up.
—
Sal strolled across the 118 apparatus bay. He hadn’t set foot in this place in years - not since Captain Nash (God rest his soul) had sent Sal packing. Sal had run into the guy a couple years ago when both houses were responding to a building collapse. He’d offered to buy the guy a beer when they were done, which he politely declined (Sal felt like a jackass later when Tommy told him the guy was sober). But Sal had taken the chance to apologize for being a dickhead back then and Nash had smiled and patted him on the shoulder. And that was that. How real men do.
The place looked different, cosmetic changes here and there, but somehow smelled the same.
He jogged up to the loft for a quick chat with the B shift captain to get up to speed on some stuff.
“Alright and here’s a key to the office,” Captain Chandler said, handing him the key. “Laptop password’s on a sticky note because we’re real secure around here. I’m not in there much, I usually work out here,” he said, gesturing to the table. “And uh, good luck I guess.”
“Thanks,” Sal said, shaking the man’s hand. He took the key and let himself into the office. It was clean and tidy and impersonal. Didn’t seem like anyone had been using it.
He’d never had an office before. Seemed kinda cool. He wasn’t gonna get too cozy, but he was already thinking about what he’d do with the office at the 122. A few pictures of his family on his desk. Yankees pennant on the wall. That kind of shit.
He stashed his bag in the little closet, then sat down on the chair.
PFFFFFFFT!
A loud fart noise sounded and Sal sighed. He could hear Captain Chandler giggling outside the office.
“April Fools!” the guy said, holding his stomach like this was the funniest damn thing he’d ever seen.
Sal got up from the chair and pulled the whoopee cushion out from beneath the seat, then dropped it into the garbage can without any further acknowledgement.
—
Sal walked downstairs to greet the team as they arrived. Han and Wilson he knew from the olden days (and he hoped they wouldn’t hold that against him). Buckley was someone he knew far too much about, thanks to Tommy’s lack of filter when he drank. He had to commend the kid on his lack of gag reflex though. Sal had seen Tommy’s hog and that couldn’t be easy to swallow. And he knew Diaz because he and Buckley were each other’s emotional support poodles.
Then there were the ones he didn’t know like Panikkar, Sanchez, Garcia. He already liked them better than the others because so far they’d done nothing to piss him off.
But the day was still young.
“Alright everyone, I’m Sal Deluca. I’ll be your captain for…however long it takes I guess.”
Not even a chuckle or nothing. In the silence, Sal heard a cricket chirp. Literally.
He looked around, a little confused, then continued. “I was here with the 118 almost ten years ago and I’ve worked with some of you before-”
Another cricket chirp. Sal furrowed his brow. He’d been trying for days to come up with a good opening speech and then he figured he’d just wing it. It wasn’t going great, but the fucking cricket didn’t help.
“My leadership style is-”
Chirp
“-is that I begin with trust and-”
Chirp
“-you either get to keep that trust or-”
Chirp
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Sal muttered under his breath, then Han and Wilson started giggling.
Sal narrowed his eyes at them.
“It’s April Fools, boss,” Chim grinned. “Lighten up.”
“The work we do is life and death, Han. You think that’s funny?” Sal said seriously.
Han and Wilson both shut their mouths.
“Anyway, like I was saying-” Sal attempted to restart, but then the tones sounded. Sal sighed and shooed them all away to do their damn jobs.
The day was full of stupid calls. Fire alarms pulled at schools and pranks gone wrong. Some idiots tried to put a goat in their colleague’s office, but it kicked one of them and he fell back and gave himself a concussion on the edge of the desk. Someone unleashed a couple live mice into a crowded yoga class, causing the participants to trample each other in an attempt to leave.
Sal was irritated as hell, but the crew thought it was all pretty hilarious.
They kept playing dumb little pranks on Sal throughout the day. Someone did some shit to his computer mouse so it went the opposite of whatever direction he wanted it to. Wilson told him someone had written “gullible” on the ceiling and he looked. Then Buckley said “oh hey Chief Simpson” and Sal looked again.
Fucking idiots.
Around dinnertime, Tommy showed up with a pink bakery box. He went into the kitchen first to give Buckley a smooch and left the box there, then went into Sal’s office and sat down.
“How’s your first day going?” Tommy asked.
Sal sighed. “Trying to do my incident reports while my mouse is working backwards is making me wanna fucking kill somebody.”
“They giving you a hard time?”
“Just being annoying.”
“It means they like you,” Tommy grinned.
“This ain’t some boy pulling my pigtails on the playground, Tommy.”
Tommy just laughed. Sal didn’t really think it was funny but he, for once, wasn’t gonna take his shitty mood out on someone else.
Growth or some shit.
Tommy stuck around for dinner. Buckley had made chicken cacciatore with pasta and bread and salad. It was damn good. Sal took his first bites carefully, though, expecting Buckley to have played some kind of prank. But everything was perfect.
He sat back and patted his stomach happily - grateful for both the meal and for not being interrupted during it.
Maybe April Fools Day was finally winding down.
Tommy hopped up out of his chair and went into the kitchen, then opened up the pink bakery box. Inside was a cake. He brought it over and set it in front of Sal. Buck followed up with some plates and forks.
“We just wanted to...give you a warm welcome to the 118,” Buckley said with a big grin.
Sal looked down at the cake, honestly touched at the gesture. He looked up at everyone at the table, feeling warm.
“Alright, cut into the damn thing before you get a call,” Tommy said, handing him a knife.
Sal cut into it eagerly and was met with unexpected resistance. “What the-”
He cut the slice and pulled it out, revealing…meatloaf.
Sal let out a disappointed sigh. “Really, Tommy? Really?”
Tommy laughed and accepted a high five from Diaz about it. Sal’s eyes narrowed at both of them.
“There’s a real cake in my truck,” Tommy reassured him. But before he could go get it, the tones sounded.
“I’ll clean up,” Tommy said, waving them all away after snagging a quick goodbye kiss from his guy.
*
*
Sal went back to his apartment after the shift. Dumbass April Fools jokes aside, it had been pretty decent. They’d listened to him without pushback, didn’t question his judgment, and worked together like a well oiled machine.
He was looking forward to the next (non-April Fools) shift.
He’d managed several hours of sleep during his shift, but he was still mentally exhausted when he got home so he flopped into bed to nap for a few hours.
He woke to his phone buzzing in his pocket - call from his mom, probably wanting to see how his shift went. He managed to sit up, then answered with a rough voice. “Hey Ma.”
“Tory, I know you’re busy but remember what I said earlier about the mouse in the house?”
“Yeah Ma,” Sal said, rubbing his eyes.
“There really is a mouse,” she said.
“Ha ha,” Sal said dryly. “It’s April 2. It’s over.”
“I’m serious,” she said, and she actually did sound serious. “Can you come over please? I wouldn’t ask because I know you must be tired but-”
“I’ll be right there,” Sal said with a long suffering sigh.
Sal changed out of his sleep rumpled clothes and dragged himself back out into the world. He swung by a hardware store and bought a couple traps before making his way to his parents’ house.
As much as he’d wanted to have a lazy day, he was always glad to be at his parents’ house, even if he was doing chores or setting mousetraps. It was a special kind of place where he could let his walls down and relax.
He walked in without knocking. The place smelled good, like garlic and onions and tomatoes - Ma’s homemade sauce. She probably had a fresh pot going, but at this point it had been baked into the walls of the place.
“Hey guys, I’m here,” he called out.
“We’re in the kitchen,” his mom called back.
Sal rounded the corner to the kitchen.
“SURPRISE!!!!”
Sal jumped back, startled, and put a hand over his heart. His whole family was there. Ma, Pops, Teeny and her dumbass boyfriend Brian, Tony and his dumbass boyfriend Bryan (because that was never confusing), and Sal’s cousin Gino from back east who was going to UCLA so Ma had pretty much adopted him.
“Jesus Christ give a guy a heart attack.”
His mom clicked her tongue. “Tory don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Sorry, Ma,” Sal said sheepishly, then glanced at the crucifix on the wall apologetically.
“We got you a cake,” Teeny said excitedly, motioning to the table where a white frosted cake sat with “Congrats Salvatore” written in script with red frosting.
“It’s not actually meatloaf is it?”
“Huh?” Brian said, because it was basically all Sal ever heard the moron say.
Sal didn’t bother explaining, just swiped his finger through a little of the frosting and tasted it to make sure it wasn’t mashed potato.
“Tory leave the cake alone,” Sal’s mom scolded, then handed him a plate with a nice big sandwich on it. “Eat this. Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Why don’t you go play a game or somethin’.”
Sal went over to the big dining table where Tony was already setting up a game. He sat down and listened to his siblings bicker with their respective Br(i/y)ans, then each other. He just took a big bite of his sandwich and smiled to himself, thinking about how he had a pretty damn good life.
