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Jim had just finished his nighttime routine of a splash of water over his face followed by a rough scrub with a hand towel and sunk into his bed beside his wife. The day had been long and tedious, the majority of his crew having caused him some sort of a headache throughout the day. Whether it be Eddie attempting to take a kitten (who very much already had a loving home) home from a house fire, Billy scaling a building with little to no approved safety gear or Dmitri trying to feed Jim his “special soup recipe” because he “noticed his belly wasn’t as jolly as usual”.
Jim savored these nights off, the time spent with his wife, El and Will. He loved his crew, but he also loved peace and quiet.
Joyce giggled as Jim pulled her closer to him with a playful grunt, his brain now fully in “home” mode. Wrapping his arms around Joyce’s waist and positioning his chin atop her head, Jim breathed a sigh of content and smiled to himself.
Bliss.
The shrill ring of the telephone tore through the blanket of solace Jim had created, ripping him harshly from his euphoric rest.
Jim threw the duvet off his body, swearing loudly as he stormed towards the kitchen to silence the raucous tones of the handset.
“Yes?” He growled down the phone, still reeling from the abrupt 11pm interruption.
“Oh, uh.. Hi Chief, I’m really sorry I hope I didn’t wake you,” Steve’s voice carried weakly through the phone, the fear in his voice notable.
“You did. What do you need?” Jim replied shortly.
“Umm.. well we need some help… well Eddie needs some help, I guess…”
Jim rolled his eyes and leant back against the counter behind him, crossing his arms tightly over his bare chest as he tucked the handset under his chin.
“Course he does, spit it out kid, what’s happened?”
There was a long, drawn-out pause.
“…he’s stuck to the radiator.”
Jim raised an eyebrow. “He’s what?”
“He’s stuck. We can’t get him out of the… look never mind, we can figure it out,” Steve sounded embarrassed, his voice becoming smaller as panic set in.
Sighing, Jim rubbed his brow roughly. As badly as he wanted to crawl back into his bed and cozy up to Joyce, he knew he couldn’t leave Steve and Eddie to “sort it out” themselves. Not if he wanted a full crew the next day.
“No, leave it, I’ll be round shortly.”
“Thanks Chief, I’m really sorry again, we didn’t know who else to call.”
“S’fine. Just don’t touch anything, see you soon,” Jim was about to hang up the handset when he heard Steve start talking again.
“Oh, and Chief? You there? When you get here just… please just don’t say anything about it.”
The line went dead before Jim could clarify what Steve meant. Joyce shuffled out from the bedroom, bleary eyed and wrapped in a pink floral dressing gown, slippers scuffing the floor.
“Who was that?” she asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“Steve, Eddie’s in some kind of trouble, who would have thought,” Jim replied sarcastically. “I’m going down there to help them out, I won’t be long, go back to bed.”
Joyce smiled knowingly. “Go easy on them, Hop.”
“I will,” he promised loosely, planting a kiss on her forehead as he passed.
He began gathering up all the supplies he could fit into a duffel bag. God knows what kind of situation he would be walking into.
*****
Jim rapped on the door heavily, hoisting his duffel bag higher on his shoulder as he waited.
A frantic figure appeared behind the frosted glass pane as the door flung open to reveal Steve.
“Chief, thank god. I’m so sorry again, I know it’s late.”
“Mmhmm, where is he?” Jim sidestepped past Steve into the entryway and was met with the strong smell of candles and Marvin Gaye playing loudly on the speakers in the living room.
Oh god.
Jim looked at Steve with an eyebrow raised and watched as a flush erupted in his face, his arm wrapping instinctively around his middle.
“We were just—-“
“I don’t want to know, just show me what’s happened,” Jim interrupted hastily.
Steve started in the direction of the living room with Jim following close behind. As they rounded the corner, Jim locked eyes with a disheveled Eddie, seated on the ground covered in a blanket and not much else.
“Greetings, Chief,” Eddie sing-songed, waving awkwardly with his free hand. The other hand, Jim quickly noticed, was handcuffed firmly to the radiator behind him.
“Jesus Christ,” Jim cursed.
“Well, Chief, as you can see, we lost the key and I’m in a bit of a pickle and in need of your assistance,” Eddie gestured towards his trapped hand, which had the beginnings of a slight purple hue, due to the tightness of the cuff around it.
The sight of Eddie cuffed to a radiator, Steve clearly uncomfortable beside him, was so comical that Jim couldn’t help but laugh. He began cackling, slapping his thigh and clutching his stomach as he gasped for air.
Eddie shortly followed suit, a nervous chuckle quickly turning into a cacophony of laughter. Steve looked horrified, his mouth stuck gaping like a stunned mullet. Jim took one look at him and collapsed into further fits of laughter, tears now running down his cheeks.
“Seriously? Can we please just help Eddie, his wrist is turning more purple,” Steve whined, gesturing towards his boyfriend’s wrist.
Jim wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his laughter now subsiding as he examined Eddie’s wrist which was, indeed, becoming a darker shade of purple.
“Pass me my bag, will you, kid?” Jim directed Steve, his stomach still protesting from the pain of the laughter.
Steve rushed to the bag, hauling it over to Jim and dumping it beside him. He knelt next to Jim and watched carefully, as if daring him to make a wrong move.
Jim dug through the bag and produced a screwdriver and chisel, expertly jimmying the lock open and releasing Eddie’s now swollen hand.
“Thought you’d know how to pick a lock with your history, Munson,” Jim teased as he put his tools back into the bag.
Eddie snorted. “It’s one thing knowing how to do it with police grade cuffs, but these bad boys are just cheap ones from some knock off Army Surplus shop in town, they jammed as soon as I tried.”
Jim nodded in agreement, hauling himself to his feet and stretching out his back. Eddie went to mimic the movement, pulling himself to his feet. The blanket wrapped haphazardly around him slipped into a puddle on the floor at his feet.
“EDDIE, JESUS CHRIST,” Jim boomed as he spun around, flinging his arm to cover his eyes. His eyes that had already seen enough tonight to traumatize him for the rest of his life.
“Sorry Chief, blankets aren’t my usual attire,” Eddie joked. Jim could hear him scrambling to cover himself again, this time with clothes that had been discarded earlier on the floor nearby.
“Right, you’re free. I’m getting the hell out of here,” Jim picked up his duffel bag from beside the abandoned handcuffs and tossed it over his shoulder. He made a face of disgust and shook his head, as if to erase the sight from his memory.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a coffee or tea? It’s the least we can do for putting you in this... situation,” Steve offered, running a hand awkwardly along the back of his neck, a grimace on his face.
Jim’s eyes darted between Steve’s pained face and Eddie’s amused smirk and then back to the discarded handcuffs on the floor. “That’s a hard no.”
Steve smiled apologetically and nodded. “At least take some of the apple pie I baked this afternoon home for Joyce, El and Will. For when they wake up in the morning.”
Jim shrugged; he wasn’t going to turn that offer down. He’d tasted Steve’s baking in the past and it would go a long way towards making up for his absence to Joyce.
Steve clapped his hands together and hurried towards the kitchen, leaving Jim and Eddie standing alone in uncomfortable silence.
“I love Steve’s baking,” Eddie said, clearly trying to pierce the awkward silence. “You should try his chocolate cake sometime, it’s so moist and supple and--”
“Enough,” Jim interrupted, raising his hand to his temples, willing Steve to return so he could leave this god-awful situation. He breathed a sigh of relief as Steve returned, apple pie wrapped neatly on a floral plate in hand.
Jim took it with a grateful nod and turned swiftly on his heels, beelining for the door.
“Sorry again, Chief,” Steve’s voice followed Jim into the entryway as he opened the front door with a bit of force.
As he loaded his duffel bag and apple pie into his car, Jim vowed from that moment on, he’d leave his phone off the hook when he went to bed.