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Galo’s beginning to think he may be having a little bit of a crisis.
Hey, Siri, is it gay to keep thinking about your homie’s lips every time you’re next to them? Is it gay to keep thinking about the time you kissed a burnish? You know, the leader of the world’s leading terrorist group? You know, the guys who burned down that pharmaceutical building? Yeah, yeah, totally normal, he thinks, as he watches from the bedroom, pants only one leg on, caught up in the little intricacies of how Lio tames his fluff of hair in the morning.
Yeah, it’s normal, he tells himself, as he shakes his head, attempting to clear his thoughts like an etch-a-sketch. His hair flops as he does it, and he trips over himself a little as he tries to his pants the rest of the way on.
Yeah, he thinks, sneaking one more glance over his shoulder before making a beeline for the kitchen. Totally normal, he tries to justify, as he rummages through the fridge. Totally something normal for two homies to think about.
Okay, so maybe he’s having a little bit of a crisis, he admits to himself, cracking eggs into a pan and popping a few slices of bread into his toaster.
He runs a hand over his face, letting out a frustrated groan as the pan starts to sizzle.
He’s not an idiot. Or, well, scratch that. He’s impulsive, and dense, and slow to catch on sometimes, he’ll admit that. But he isn’t a complete idiot. He does know a lot of stuff about a lot of things.
And one thing he knows for sure is that you do not normally think about kissing someone this much.
He tries, futilely, to justify it in his head, face set in a hard line of concentration. To an outsider, it might look as if he’s scrambling those eggs with every ounce of determination he has left.
Maybe it’s not a crush. Maybe it’s just, uh, what’s the word, trauma bonding, right?
He scrambles the eggs perhaps a little too aggressively.
Trauma bonding makes sense, he thinks. It’s not like it was some playful smooch, he reasons to himself. It was life or death, in that moment, at least for Lio, but more than likely for all of them.
He can’t stop thinking about that part, too. Lio’s arms crumbling to ash underneath him, his legs disintegrating under his touch, skin flaking away and falling victim to flame, panel by panel, cell by cell.
But those memories, the ones of Lio almost dying, those give him nightmares. Those are the ones that leave both him and Lio shaking apart with terrors, night after night.
There’s a reason Lio had refused to move out with Meis and Guerra, after all. Housing and restoration efforts were going well. But for their nightmares? Waking up to see the other alive was more reassuring than any kind of talk therapy.
The memories of the kiss, though….
He feels his face flush. He’ll blame it on the heat of the burner.
The kiss. Those are different.
And, of course, there are plenty of reasons for a kiss like that to be memorable. There’s plenty, he tells himself. Of course there is.
He has to shake himself out of his stupor a little bit, so as to not overcook the eggs.
His eyebrows scrunch, a little, as he reaches into his cupboard for plates. The toaster timer ticks down slowly, behind him.
Of course he remembers that kiss. And not just because he would have died.
Of course he remembers it, he tells himself, why would he not? It was the first time since his parent’s death he’d ever started a fire - and a fire lit by Promare flames, no less. The quiet murmur of power, the silent, non-painful simmer of the flame - the whole thing is quite the experience, he thinks. He could understand how the Burnish wore it with pride - it was beautiful, how could they ever be ashamed?
That’s the reason he still thinks of it, he tells himself. Not because of Lio’s soft breath under his. Not because of the way Galo wanted to lean back into that heat.
He scoops the eggs onto plates, and tries to reason with himself.
Surely that’s just inconsequential, though. Surely that’s not the main reason.
He bravely, or maybe impulsively, thinks back to that kiss, back to the memory of Lio’s lips leaving his, the face he made when he woke, looking up at him. Galo feels his face flush all over again.
It takes all his mental strength not to punch himself in the face for that, despite his urge to stick his head into the freezer and scream.
The harsh ring of the toaster makes him jump, though, and his foul mood is immediately brightened when he hears the sparkling laugh of Lio behind him.
“Big, bold Galo Thymos,” he teases, sidling up beside him, and cocking a hip to lean on the counter. “Defeated in combat by a toaster oven.”
Galo can’t bring himself to be offended, not with Lio’s laugh, with Lio’s smile - that once-rare gem that’s been becoming ever more common the more the restoration efforts have come underway.
“Piss off,” Galo teases back, snatching the toast out of its little toasty slots. “I’m gonna fuckin demolish that toast. This toast’s got nothing on me.”
Lio laughs again, nodding his thanks as he takes the plate from Galo, before moving to grab himself a cup of water and sit himself down at the countertop.
“Ready for your first day of firefighter training?” Galo asks, when they’re halfway through their meal.
“For the training?” Lio asks, “yes. For Lucia trying to convince me to let her custom-build a mech for me on the first day?” He shoots Galo a knowing look. “No.”
Galo laughs. “Better than having to hear Remi whine about how much he misses his girlfriend.”
“The mutant girl?”
“The mutant girl.”
Lio snickers. “And I thought my life was weird.”
Galo rolls his eyes, as if anything could ever be weirder.
“And, for the record,” Lio continues in, words lightly muffled by him crunching toast, “you only prefer Lucia because the two of you are insane.”
Galo shrugs, raising an eyebrow mischievously. “I dunno, man,” he smirks, pointing his fork at Lio, accusingly. “You seem pretty wild yourself, mister arsonist.”
“Dumbass.”
“Crime boy.”
“Himbo.”
“Aww,” Galo says, feigning flattery. He bats his eyes, just for the dramatics. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Pfft!” Lio laughs, throwing his head back as he does.
“You’re such a dork,” Lio tells him, and he thinks it’s meant to be a tease, but the tone almost makes it sound like a compliment.
Galo’s heart does a funny little thing again.
It’s just because he likes having Lio around, he tells himself. It’s just because he’s so grateful he’s alive, that he’s still here.
Because that would be messed up, wouldn’t it? If his new best friend was dying, and all he could think about was how he wanted to dive back down into those lips. To really kiss him, not just press air into his lungs.
No, it’s not that, he tells himself, because that would be wrong.
He smiles at Lio, sat across from him, and tells himself that it’s just gratefulness. Just the trauma highlighting selective memories in his mind.
He will not take advantage of Lio, he thinks. It must just be the intensity of the situation.
He watches Lio shuck on one of his old fireman’s jackets, as they head out the door, and tells himself that, no, that little flutter in his heart was due to caffeine, definitely not anything else.
-
In all fairness, he lasts a fairly long time before accidentally doing sometching stupid about it.
He doesn’t exactly fight it, but it conflicts him - this feeling that’s been festering, and that he’s been letting it, with Lio not knowing.
It’d be unfair to him, he thinks to himself, it’d be unfair if he pushed his feelings and intentions onto Lio. So, maybe he’s a little more tactile with Lio, but he’s always been a hugger - he’s tactile with everybody. Sure, he invites Lio to sleep in the same bed, but that’s because of the nightmares, he tells himself. It’s because it’s soothing for them to be able to easily find each other when they wake up shaky, feeling like they’re going to drown.
He may be an idiot, but he’s a gentleman. Or, at least, as much of one as he manages to be.
The longer the feeling festers, though, the more time he spends with Lio, he starts to let himself wonder. He starts to let himself hope.
And sure, sue him for wanting to shoot his shot. Sue him for being too scared to do so. But, as much as Aina teases him for being ‘fond-eyes-fireman,’ sometimes, when he’s changing clothes or drying off in the showers, he swears he can feel Lio’s eyes linger.
Sometimes, when he’s with Lucia in the garage, hair tied back into a ponytail, covered up to his elbows in dust and grease and dirt, he swears Lio’s eyes linger on his biceps as he flexes, or on his Adam’s apple as he throws his head back to drink.
He even lets himself hope, sometimes, that when they snuggle, when they’re soothing each other from nightmares, that Lio’s glancing at his lips when he looks down.
He’s probably a fool for thinking it. But, hope keeps him going, fuels his burning soul. So, even though it scares him, he lets himself hope.
It’s the only thing he feels like he can do.
And it’s the only thing he means to do, until the lid on his yearning starts to slip, and he does something impulsive. Like an idiot. Again.
It’s one of Lio’s days off, but he’s at the station anyways, papers cluttered around the coffee table as he types grant proposals into his computer.
It’s one of his many efforts to help keep the rehabilitation process running smoothly, and while Galo does admire it, he’s quickly learned that, be it fighting or pushing papers, Lio Fotia can be a dumbass in his own aspects, and he will absolutely work himself to exhaustion, until he’s tired all the way down to his bones.
Fires, of course, still start without the burnish, but they come with much less frequency, and often much less power.
There’s still a danger to them, and in some ways, it’s a danger the Promare didn’t have.
For many awakened burnish, those with well-practiced powers were able to control their fire well. “Fight to live, not to hurt,” Lio had said. It was the mantra that was instilled in them, and that most tried to live by. It was the younger ones, most often, the unawakened, who caused the most trouble when they first woke, scared and confused and surrounded by flames.
Natural born fires, on the other hand, could not be controlled the same way. On the one hand, they were not as powerful. On the other hand, you could sometimes calm a burnish, and it would calm their fire. Nature’s fire could not be calmed. Once a blaze got going, it would be controlled by no man. Unless, of course, said man had a copious amount of proper training and fire equipment. Which is to say that Burning Rescue Station 3 spends a lot more time on tech, training and mecha nowadays - it’s a change for the good. And it also means Lio has a place to hang out with them, if he doesn’t feel like being alone. It’s a more peaceful life, and while the fires still come, Lucia’s tech is often more than a match for them.
Galo wanders into the common area with two bottles in hand - one his trusty, old, insulated water bottle, far too high tech since being retrofitted with Lucia’s custom cooling tech. The other is an iced coffe with a splash of hazelnut and vanilla- Lio’s favorite way to make it in the mornings.
He’d bought a bottle of hazelnut extract for the apartment - definitely, solely for the coffee. Not because seeing Lio do that soft, happy little smile of his in the morning did something warm and constricting to his chest.
Lio looks up and smiles, just a flash of it, before his eyes dart back to the computer.
Galo feels it do that thing again.
……Yeah. It’s definitely just because he likes the coffee. Nothing else.
“You still working?” He asks, flopping himself on the couch, next to him. “Even on your day off?”
Lio shrugs, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Paperwork. All of this,” he pauses, gesturing at the screen with one hand. “I know it’s for a good reason, but it’s like it never ends.”
Galo offers him the coffee, and he takes it, smiling in thanks, before tipping his head back to take a sip.
“Mmm!” He says, pleased. “Just how I like it. How’d you know?”
Galo chuckles, furiously trying suppress the blush creeping up the small of his neck, onto his ears.
“Well, duh,” he says, throwing an arm around him. “I’d be a bad roommate if I couldn’t remember something as simple as coffee.”
Lio smirks, mischievously. “Well,” he drawls, eyes finally leaving the screen of the computer, “there was that one time you tried to brew whole beans.”
Galo gawks, mock-offended. “First of all,” he sasses, “I was tired. And second!” He pokes a finger between Lio’s eyes. “You were the one who put an empty kettle on the stove that one time!”
Lio grimaces, just slightly, a smidge of guilt in his expression at having potentially caused a fire.
“I’ve watched you microwave aluminum.”
“I was tried!” Galo splutters, “And you didn’t stop me?!”
“Boys, boys!” Lucia cuts in, poking her head through the door to her mechanics lab. “You’re both idiots, we get it!”
Vinny runs down her sleeve and into the common room, so she follows, trailing after him.
He makes a little squeak as he reaches the bottom of where the kitchen island begins. Lucia lifts him, and he squeaks again in thank you, before running over to his water dispenser as Lucia wanders over towards the chips.
“Chop, chop, Galo,” she says, popping the chip clip in her mouth as she works on uncurling the bag of goodies. “Lio’s got the day off, but not you.”
“What are you guys doing?” Lio asks, craning his head to look over at her.
“Customized mechanical auto-diploying fire resistant suits. A prototype.”
Lio blinks.
Lucia blinks back at him.
“Ugh,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Lame-man’s terms.” She takes the clip out of her mouth, before shoving a handful of chips on. “Think Iron Man. But if he couldn’t fly, and it was just the suit, and it was fireproof.”
Lio quirks a brow. “Do those even exist?”
Lucia shrugs, a maniacal grin spreading across her face. “They do now!”
She shoves another handful of chips in her mouth, and grabs Vinny with her free hand. Really, it’s comical. Her hand almost entirely encapsulates his tiny body.
He lets out a little mousey shriek, as if scolding her, before she offers him a chip in consolation. He pauses, before taking it, and settling back into her lab coat’s breast pocket, head poking out amongst the screwdrivers and glitter pens.
Lio turns his head back towards Galo, leans forward to whisper conspirationally into his ear.
“What’s with the rat?” he asks, in a half-whisper.
“He’s… a valued team member?” Galo tries.
“He’s my buddy!” Lucia answers, instead. She saunters over to the couch, pushing out one side of her lab coat so that Vinny can squeak proudly at them. She leans into Lio’s face, mad grin going even wider. “Every mad scientist has to have one.”
She cackles, sounding nothing short of maniacal, and Lio sighs, completely unfazed.
“You’re a hazard to society,” he deadpans at her.
“Silence, fire boy!” She twirls, doing a bad impression of a magical girl as she poses, pointing at him. “Ex-arsonist! I don’t wanna hear it!”
Lio just smiles, rolling his eyes, before turning back to Galo.
“How is it that she’s been here longer than you, and somehow you’re the one who burnt the place down first.”
“Hey!” She cuts in. “The only fires I start are for science, fire boy!”
Lio wants to lean in towards Galo, again, wants to crack a joke about her nicknames, but then she’s flicking Galo in the back of the head, causing him to yelp and turn to look at her.
“Alright, come on! Chop-chop, break time’s over, Galo.” She skips back towards the double doors to the mechanics lab. “You got your water, so back to work! Your boyfriend will still be here, later.”
Boyfriend.
Galo’s heart freezes.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, tires as hard as he can to keep his face exactly as it was. It’s a joke. She didn’t mean it. It doesn’t mean-
….It doesn’t need to mean anything.
He glances at Lio, face equally surprised, and laughs, hoping he can at least find some escape in the humor of the situation.
“Well, mon amour,” he jokes, dipping into an exaggerated bow as he stands. “I must be going.”
Lio snickers, raising his glass in cheers.
“Off to war with you, my liege,” he jokes back, voice cracking at his attempt of a posh, overdramatic, English accent.
Galo grins at him, raising his water bottle to clink against the tall glass.
“Good luck with that,” Lio adds on, dropping the accent to get back to his normal voice. “Don’t let her give you a chemical burn.”
Galo winks, holding up his scarred arm, and flexing. “Already got enough burns to show off at the beach, babe.”
It rolls off his tongue, the nickname. And, really, why shouldn’t it? He’s called Aina and Remi both babe, sometimes. He called his college roommate that, when others thought that they were dating.
It makes something flutter in his heart, with Lio.
But, it doesn’t need to mean anything. So, he carries on.
“‘Sides,” he says, leaning in to mock-whisper again, “she won’t burn me.” He juts an elbow at himself. “You’re looking at the world’s number one firefighter! I’m the only one brave enough to go along with all her shit.”
Lio shakes his head. “Idiotic, maybe.”
“You know it, babe,” he says again, and the nickname’s less an accident, but it feels so natural. It feels so right, so good.
He laughs, ruffles Lio’s hair, smiling at the pout he gets for doing so.
“Don’t worry firebug,” he reassures him, pausing to roll his eyes as Lucia shouts a loud, “GALOOOOOOO,” in impatience.
“Duty calls,” he jokes, and leans down, pressing a kiss to Lio’s forehead.
He straightens up, turns to leave, glances back to wave bye one more time before disappearing back into the lab.
Lio’s got a hand to his forehead, eyes unfocused, when he looks back at him.
Galo shrugs, blames it on him fixing his hair, and walks off.
Halfway through Lucia soldering metal plates together, something in his brain clicks, and it finally hits him.
He’d kissed Lio.
He’d kissed Lio.
On the forehead, only. Just a quick smooch, but still.
The thing that’s been begging to run free in his chest finally breaks the chain, and every ounce of feeling he’d been trying to explain away comes back to whip him, like cold wind, in the face.
He’s sure it shows in his expression, too, because when the solder smoke is clear, Lucia lifts her goggles, looking up at him.
“Whelp, there he goes,” she says to Vinny, who’s arranging her bolts by size, in the corner. “Mister Dumbass has had his quarter-life crisis,” she announces, before she shrugs, pulling her goggles back on.
“I’ll let him reboot,” she says, and Galo can only assume he looks like the personification of a computer loading screen. “Radio Varys if he doesn’t boot back up in an hour.
He eventually shakes it off, and carries on as usual, but he can feel the tightness in his chest constricting with every moment of the day.
Lio’s eyes linger on him as they drive home, maybe lost in thought, or maybe in concern.
He lets himself hope. Decides to be brave, for once. Decides to fan the flames of it.
He burned the world down for this man. If there’s a chance that Lio staying with him, cuddling with him, working with him, any of it - if any of it has any meaning at all, he holds tight to it, lets himself hope.
He’s the worlds number one firefighting idiot. He set the world on fire. His soul burns.
What could be more idiotic or flammable than a confession - laden with all his hopes, ready to light up like gasoline.