A/N: Max Thieriot is one fine man and I can't help but write about his characters.
Pairing: Reader x Bode Leone
Warnings: reader has a daughter, ex-con, ...
“You do know you’re tying it wrong right?” a voice said behind you. You turned to find Bode watching you with that familiar, amused glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes.
“I’m just practicing, Mister Nugget. But please - show me how it’s done,” you said, handing him the rope with a dramatic flair.
He chuckled and took the rope from your hand. Your hands brushed - just barely - but the spark was immediate. Again.
Ever since the firefighter training program began, something has been brewing between you. Whether he felt it too, you weren’t sure but you’d been denying - whatever it was - because of your past.
After your fair share of heartbreak. You made a vow: no men, no sex - for five years. You were halfway and you intended to see it through. Especially for your nine years old daughter, Alyssa. She deserved stability - especially after her dad left you both in pieces. Your life of crime was haunting you, all because of him.
You quickly cleared your throat and wiped your palms on your pants. When you looked up again, a faint blush dusted his cheeks.
Did you imagine that?
You rubbed your eyes but it was already gone - and Bode was back to demonstrating the knot. You nodded your head as he explained each step, inching closer so you could see how the rope wove together.
When he finished, you looked up - realizing too late how close you’d gotten. Your chest nearly grazed his upper arm, and you could feel his breath on your cheek.
Your breath hitched.
You stepped back quickly, scratching the back of your neck to hide the fluster. You didn’t see the faint frown tug at his lips as you looked away, heat rising in your cheeks.
“Thanks for... uh, showing me,” you said quickly, taking the rope from his hand. The station sirens blared. You exhaled in relief. “Saved by the bell,” you muttered under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear. Unfortunately, he did. And it disappointed him - just a little.
He’d thought there was something between you - something real, even if it was still unspoken. But ever since that night at Smokey’s, you’d been icing him out.
“Come on, Leone! Live a little!” you said, laughing as you handed him two shots of tequila and grabbed two more for yourself.
He’d laughed with you. He liked that side of you - free, vibrant, untethered. You didn’t let that part of yourself out often. He didn’t know everything you’d been through, but he had a pretty good idea. After all, he’d been through something similar.
You clinked glasses. He counted down from three, and together, you downed the shots.
“Wooo!” you whooped, throwing your hands into the air.
He laughed, catching your wrists before they could fly any higher. “Okay, [L/N]. That’s your last one for the night.”
“Let’s bring you home before you hate your drunken self tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t wanna~,” you whined, dragging out the words.
That playful side of you - the one that let go, that trusted him enough to stop being the strong, serious one - turned him on more than he cared to admit. With everyone else, you were unshakable. With him, you allowed yourself to be something else.
You’d met at fire camp - he at Three Rock, you at Black River. Your paths had crossed, but you never let yourself get close . He had Rebecca. She was one of your closest friends. After losing her, something in you shut down, pulling away from anyone who might hurt you again.
It hurt him, but he understood. Still, when you both made parole and entered the training program together, he was quietly grateful to have you back in his orbit.
He tugged on your wrist, slung your purse over his arm, and steered you toward the exit. Your friends shared a knowing look behind your back as you waved goodbye, but you were too tipsy to notice it.
You didn’t want to leave - but you didn’t resist either.
By the time he had you buckled into the passenger seat of his truck, you were rambling about some ridiculous high school story. You were plastered, but he wasn’t. His alcohol tolerance always outpaced yours, you underestimated it every time you went to Smokey’s. He knew driving you home wasn’t ideal, but letting you walk to your apartment in your inebriated state felt way worse.
As he drove, he caught you staring at him - soft, dreamy, like you saw right through the walls he’d built. In one way you did, that made him smile.
He knew you liked him. Since fire camp, really. And he liked you too, though he’d respected your boundaries. Still, you made it impossible not to flirt; you were magnetic, and even his mom, Sharon, adored you - half-joking once about wanting you as a daughter-in-law.
When he parked in front of your apartment, he reached over to unbuckle your seatbelt. But he froze. Your eyes were on his, locked and lingering.
You leaned in.
So did he.
Your lips met in a dizzy, searing kiss. His hands found your waist. Yours tangled in his hair. He groaned, deep and low, and the sound pulled a moan from you. When his hand slid higher, pausing reverently before cupping your breast, you melted into him - until suddenly you didn’t.
You pulled away without a word, fumbled with your seatbelt, and stumbled out of the truck. No goodbye. No thank you.
Bode slammed both palms against the steering wheel, just missing the horn by inches. Dragging a hand down his face, he cursed the ache between his legs. One kiss had wrecked him.
The next day, you acted as though nothing had happened. It drove him insane. But when he saw the picture taped to your locker - your daughter’s smiling face beside yours - he remembered your promise. Your reason. So he stayed back, only moving when you moved first. For your sake.
Just like earlier today.
Even now, hours later, he couldn’t stop thinking about how close you had stood, how your chest brushed his arm. The memory tortured him—especially below the belt.
“Bro, what’s up? You’ve been out of it since the call,” Jake asked, glancing at him from the driver’s seat.
Bode shoved his mic aside. Jake followed.
“It’s [Y/N], man,” Bode admitted, his voice low. “I know her reasons for keeping her distance, but… she keeps giving me mixed signals.”
Jake’s eyes sharpened, that knowing look he always gave when he’d been paying more attention than you realized. “Have you even talked about what happened after Smokey’s?”
Bode shook his head.
Jake groaned and rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt to watch. “Dude!” Too loud.
Bode hissed, shushing him quickly. You sat in the backseat, lost in thought, oblivious. Thank God.
“Just do it,” Jake muttered more quietly. “After our shift. Or I’ll make you.”
Bode sighed. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe it was time to talk. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince you to break your promise. Because if you let him in, he knew he’d never let you regret it.
The shift ended quietly. You were cleaning in the bay when you saw him approach, fidgeting with his hands.
“Hey, [Y/N]. Can we talk?” His voice was rougher than he intended.
You swallowed, set the rag aside, and followed him into the kitchen. Empty. Perfect.
“I can guess why you want to talk,” you said, spine stiffening as you sat across from him. The silence between you was thick, hesitant. Bode opened his mouth, then faltered. You beat him to it.
“I’m sorry - ”
“Hey, what’s up, guys!” Eve’s cheerful voice rang out as she walked in. She froze at the sight of your faces, both too serious. “...Okay. Awkward. I’ll come back later.” She backed out quickly.
You both chuckled, tension broken for a heartbeat.
Bode scratched his cheek, nerves raw. “So… yeah. I think we both know we’ve got this thing going on. And I thought it was going well. Until Smokey’s.”
You flinched at the name. He noticed. Still, he pressed on.
“I hope you don’t think it was a mistake. Because I don’t. I keep thinking about that night—it’s been driving me crazy.”
“Bode.” You laid your hand over his, steady and small. His big hands folded over yours instinctively, clinging.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” you admitted softly. His eyes lit up, hope sparking.
“I really liked that kiss too. And yeah, I was drunk but you know what they say - drunk thoughts are honest thoughts.” You tried to laugh, and he smiled with his whole face.
“But… you know my promise. To Alyssa.”
He nodded, jaw tight. “I know. But, [Y/N]… break your promise. Please.” His voice cracked with desperation. “I promise you, I’ll treat you right. And I’ll treat Alyssa right.”
You stared at him, heart thundering. His eyes were raw, honest, pleading like his life depended on your answer.
“Ever since fire camp, I knew you were meant to stay in my life,” he whispered. “Even if it was just as friends at first. But you belong with me, [Y/N]. I love you. And I swear, I’ll take care of you the way you deserve - both of you. Always”
Your resolve cracked piece by piece until a sigh slipped past your lips. You leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, tenderly.
“Baby steps,” you murmured, your hand brushing over his beard.
He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch like it was all he’d ever wanted.
“Baby steps,” he echoed, his voice almost a vow.
Outside the cracked kitchen door, Eve crouched down, wide-eyed, spying shamelessly. She mouthed, Oh my God. Then she spotted Jake standing behind her, arms crossed.
“Seriously?” he muttered.
Eve shushed him with a frantic wave. “They’re having a moment!” she whispered.
Jake rolled his eyes, but even he couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at his mouth.
