Summary: Another late night at the fire house is interrupted when dispatch calls out a very familiar address.
Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.3K
Prompt: Firefighter Au!
Warnings: Established Relationship, angst, fluff, gambling (kinda), brief mention of death and its implications, fire injuries (not burns, but smoke inhalation), loss of property because of a fire
A/N:
Written for @sunmoonandbucky
and their #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge :D
love ya babe <3
Also, while I looked up codes and such, I am probably really wrong at some of these, so if you happen to know the Brooklyn FDNY codes/dispatch please let me know so I can fix it :D
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[My Masterlist]
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It was late, however, the bright lights of the firehouse kept Bucky wide awake. He took another glance at the clock on the wall, but only a minute had passed since the last time he looked. Time seemed to move as slowly as possible.
“I know your shifts almost over, but if you paid attention, you might actually win the game,” Sam taunted him, letting his cards fall in front of him, an 8,7,6,5, and 4, a Straight.
Bucky, being the only other one left in the game, smirked faintly, “Keep dreaming, Sam,” he placed his own cards down. Every single one had a red diamond that seemed to stare straight into Sam’s soul. A Flush. He reached forward, grabbing his prize, the best snacks of the week from each of the crew, from the middle of the table.
Sam groaned loudly just as Steve laughed. “Better luck next time, Sam,” he teased, earning him a glare from the man. He turned towards Buck just as he pulled open the gummy snacks, determined to keep his mind off the counting clock. “Don’t worry Buck, in two hours you’ll be clocked out and passed out beside your gal,” he nudged him with his shoulder.
“Snuggled up with the millions of blankets she owns,” Natasha joined in, already having folded out of the game before she could lose more precious pretzels.
“Are really suggesting that Barnes is immediately going to sleep when he sees his girl? Because I’d like to bet an alternative-“ Nat tossed a pretzel at Tony to shut him up, rolling her eyes as he yelped when it hit him square in the head.
“I’m exhausted, I will be happily passed out and snuggled against my gal,” Bucky gave Tony a pointed look, before sighing. He looked towards his phone, knowing you were probably asleep so late at night. He couldn’t help but hope you had texted him, despite having exchanged good night texts two hours ago.
He glanced towards the sofas, Clint had the tv on, captions on, volume low so the rest of them could hear the dispatch radio placed on the counter. The news jumped back and forth between stories, a robbery, a missing person, a cat stuck up a tree from yesterday. Most of the footage was old, making Bucky lose interest.
Just as he was about to turn back to a new game, Natasha already shuffling the cards behind him, the bright red headline of BREAKING NEWS caught his attention. A fire right up the street from one of the other stations. The frequency had already called out one of the other stations to a nearby fire, but it wasn’t bad enough for this part of Brooklyn FD to be called out. Looked pretty bad now though, the apartment building was on frame at a weird angle, and it was grainy footage from a cell phone, but the entire right side was streaked with red and orange flames.
“Dispatch hasn’t called it yet, but I have a feeling we’re gonna be called in for this one, up and at ‘em,” Bucky called, the others glancing at the tv before agreeing and standing, starting to get ready for the inevitable call.
Not two minutes later, as Bucky tugged the suspenders from his uniform on correctly, the call was ringing out across the station. “Dispatch to Brooklyn, 10-26, 10-23. 10-85 Brooklyn.” Occupied high-rise, three-alarm fire, Need for additional units.
Steve jumped to answer, calling out “10-04, 10-07?” Acknowledged, Verify address?
Bucky had already jumped into the truck, pressing the lights button on as Sam jumped in as well, Nat and Tony grabbing the other truck, turning on their lights as well. Dispatch gave out the address and everyone in both trucks tensed. Bucky went pale. Oh God, this can’t be happening.
“On our way,” Steve quickly closed the door and turned the sirens on, out on the road and dashing towards the address, not needing the GPS. Bucky was silent, fear and panic filling his eyes as he gripped onto the seat of the truck with one hand, and his helmet with the other. New York, the city that never sleeps, was determined not to let him get to his destination. Red lights meant slowing down to make sure opposing traffic knew they were coming, and every damn light was red.
Sam placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, hoping to calm him. “Maybe it-“
“Save it Sammie,” Bucky warned, eyes straight ahead as he tried not to over think. “Step on it, Rogers. Now.”
“Trying,” Steve muttered in response, only a block away and closing in. Steve had barley put the truck to park when Bucky pushed Sam out the truck, jumping out after him and ignoring his frustrated cry.
He looked around frantically, hoping the other units grabbed everyone already. Your neighbor and best friend Wanda recognized him instantly, already brushing off the police officer trying to ask her questions. She looked an utter mess, wrinkled, grime covered pajamas, her twin standing a few feet away getting oxygen from one of the EMTs, soot in his white hair. “Bucky! Thank God you’re here! She’s still inside, they said the fire started in her apartment.” She was frenzied, shaking as she tried to tell him. He nodded in acknowledgment, words lacking at the moment. He turned to the building, able to see it now. The flames were centered right by your fifth-floor apartment window. He felt his heart tighten as he tugged on his helmet, already rushing to join Steve and the others in running inside.
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Coughing again and again, covered in soot, huddled in the bathroom, gripping onto Alpine. The poor white cat looked like a different bred all covered in soot. She purred in your arms, trying to comfort you as you stayed curled into a ball at the very corner of your bathtub. Trapped by the fire while in your pajamas, and there were no windows but a small slit in the wall. Alpine could probably barley squeeze through that and escape, but the lock had rusted months ago and wouldn’t open.
Now, nose buried under a soot covered pajama shirt to not inhale the smoke, Alpine under the same shirt to prevent as much smoke inhalation as possible, you couldn’t help but notice the true irony of your situation. The fireman’s girlfriend and rescue cat, dying in a fire. You felt like you were living in an irony.
Why did you decide to not move out sooner? Why did you happen to stumble into the bathroom in the middle of the night? Why didn’t you insist to the landlord that your faulty electrical lines in your bedroom should most definitely be replaced now instead of later? Was this really the way you were going to die? The fight had already left you once the fire had spread to right outside your bathroom door. Truly and utterly trapped. No windows, no doors, no way out. Since the fire was electrical, they had already shut the power off to the building. The only light was the fire being barley contained on the other side of the bathroom door. The heat radiating in the room from the mixture of the fire and the AC being off, and well, being on fire, was starting to make you woozy.
Coughing once more, you couldn’t hear the front door to your apartment being kicked down. God, you hoped Bucky wouldn’t blame himself. He always tended to do that anyway, and if you were going to die with any regrets, it would be how you died. That would haunt him for the rest of his life.
The door to the bathroom was suddenly axed down, making you jump faintly, gripping Alpine even tighter. Your eyes lit up at the sight of two soot covered, full uniform wearing firefighters standing at the door. One was already reaching towards you, the second was subduing the fire away from the door.
The one above you wrapped you in a fireproof blanket, helping you to your feet to escape. You stumbled, still holding onto Alpine for dear life; not that the cat minded snuggling into your chest, smelling your perfume instead of the smoke. The firefighter quickly caught you and didn’t waste a second in picking you up and making their way out the door. Everything was getting hazy, and you glancing around, it didn’t really set in that this was your apartment in flames. That was your favorite chair and curtains being burnt to a crisp. And Bucky’s favorite blanket on top of the chair, mostly ash in a neat little pile. You buried your face into the soot covered jacket of the person holding you, trying not to inhale to much smoke and to save yourself from seeing the destruction of your home.
The first thing to hit you when you were outside was how cool it suddenly was. The second was the oxygen. As you took a ragged breath, the cool air burned in your throat. The firefighter holding onto you rushed towards an EMT, but you caught a glance behind you. With everyone evacuated, they were starting to gain control of the blaze. As the firefighter holding you sat you on the edge of the ambulance’s open tail gate, you noticed the Brooklyn Fire Truck. The very one you had painted Brooklyn on in baby blue just last summer. One of the firefighters pulled off his helmet and mask, and you instantly recognized Sam. God that means Bucky’s here.
You coughed roughly, not fighting the paramedic who took Alpine to give her some oxygen, while another paramedic placed an oxygen mask over your face. You groaned lowly, the voice stuck in your throat felt like tar. You looked towards your savior, the firefighter. Considering how close you were to the FDNY, having gone to plenty of their cookouts and bowling nights, you most likely knew the person who saved you. Yet, you only cared to find him.
Taking a deep breath, you pulled the mask off just long enough to gargle out a “B-Bucky-…” while trying to get Sam’s attention. You needed to find him. He was a self-sacrificing idiot at times, just like his best friend, and would probably go back into the fire to make sure every single person and animal and even the hamster upstairs was safely rescued. The firefighter beside you quickly put the mask back over your nose and mouth, and despite the helmet and mask covering their face, you could practically hear the silent ‘Why would you do that?!’ from their body language.
You pulled the fire blanket closer to your shoulders, shuddering before realizing which blanket it was. It was the blanket you had gotten Bucky as a joke last Christmas, the one that was folded neatly on your couch when you went to bed. If the fire fighter knew what it was then that would mean-
Your eyes widened as you looked up towards your savior, who was pulling off his helmet and mask. You couldn’t stop the smile from your face as you took in his worried expression and your favorite ocean eyes. “Bucky,” you murmured.
Despite being muffled behind the mask, he heard you, and didn’t stop the relieved expression from overtaking his features. He threw the gloves off, placing them and the helmet beside you before cupping your face in his hands. “You had me worried sick, sugar. When the address came in, and then when Wan said you were still upstairs…. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.” He stepped in between your legs, careful to make sure you were still getting oxygen but were now safely tucked into his arms. You stayed quiet, nuzzling closer to him, with Alpine, who was perfectly fine just a little dirty, curled on your lap.
It stayed like that for a few moments, the red lights from the now quiet sirens lighting up his features, the oxygen starting to calm you; his arms wrapped around you, filling you with warmth. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispered into your ash covered hair, too grateful that you survived that close call then to worry about the new dirt on his face.
You took another breath, feeling good enough to actually speak again, you pulled the mask off again, “You know,” you rasped, “When I agreed to move in with you, I didn’t mean this soon.”
He chuckled faintly, holding you closer as you took more breaths from the oxygen. “Good thing most of your stuff is at my place now,” he took a glance towards your apartment, most likely a bad – if not total – loss.
“And thank god for insurance,” you muttered into the mask. He chuckled again, kissing your head and running a hand through Alpine’s fur. The cat purred, happily rubbing against the two of you. “I love you, honey,” he whispered softly, reverent, as if the entire weight of tonight’s events had finally settled on him.
“I love you more, Bucky Barnes,” you teased, grinning into the mask. And in the light of the emergency vehicles, your pajamas covered in dirt and soot and ash, he couldn’t help but think you were absolutely perfect. As you buried your face in his chest, ignoring the chaffing from his uniform, ready to fall asleep again, he couldn’t help but smile. And he couldn’t help but be grateful that the ring he was going to propose with, was locked in a fireproof safe hidden at the back of his closet.
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