Work Text:
“Unit 33 to dispatch.”
“Roger 33, this is dispatch.”
“Heading back to Altea for relief. ETA is 7 minutes.”
“Roger 33, stand by please.”
Allura displaces the mic back on its hook. Lance yawns, jaw opening wide. It's been a long night with few calls, all relatively mild. A pretty decent shift, although somewhat of a drag. Their shift ended at 6:00 am, about 10 minutes ago. It's rare they get to go home on time.
Triggered by her coworker, Allura covers her mouth to hide a yawn of her own. She lets out a hum at the end of it, shaking herself and dropping her shoulders further into the oversized bomberjacket. “I can't wait to snuggle up between Romelle and Luna,” she murmurs, pleased. Lance chuckles. Whenever Allura has a night shift, her daughter, Luna, has the privilege of sleeping in her parents bed alongside Romelle, Allura's wife. They say it's for Luna's sake, but in truth, it’s so Romelle has someone to cuddle. She hates the empty bed. Lance can relate, but only Keith knows that.
“Will Keith be home?” Allura asks, as if reading his mind.
Lance shakes his head, smiling fondly at the mention of his partner. “No, he's on duty tonight.” Every other week, their schedules overlap and they have similar shifts, which is both a blessing and a curse. Sharing a similar schedule allows them more time together when they are off duty. However when both are on night shifts, there is no one waiting with a cup of coffee when arriving home in the morning.
“But,” Lance says, extending his index as he's about to make a point. “He won't be home until eight, which means I will have the bed all to myself! For a few hours, that is.” He doesn't like to admit how poorly he sleeps without Keith, so he usually hides it with a joke.
“Hmm,” Allura hums, lips pressing into a line. “I'm only mildly jealous.”
Lance takes a turn onto the main street, hospital almost in sight had it not been pitch black. This time of year it remains dark for at least another couple of hours. Oriande never sleeps, though. City lights flicker as they drive by, an intense fluorescent glow from the small grocers and other 24/7 shops.
“Wanna grab some breakfast before heading home?” Allura asks.
Never has he heard a more brilliant idea. “Hunk's diner?”
“For breakfast?”
“Yeah,” Lance grins. “I'm sure Hunk can whip up something for us.”
They are interrupted by the sudden crackle of the radio. "Unit 33, respond to residential building fire at North Rover Road. Neighbors report occupants trapped.”
Their smiles disappear. Allura holds back a groan before turning on the microphone. “Dispatch, this is unit 33, we’re dead heading back to station, any other units who can fill?”
“Multiple units are requested, 33.”
This time, Allura does groan which tapers off into a sigh as Lance starts the siren. “I can use the overtime,” he tries, corner of his lips quirking up in an apologetic smile.
“Unit 33 responding to the scene.”
“Roger, that’s number 33 responding to the scene at 6:18.”
Allura sits up in her seat, willing back the tiredness. She narrows her eyes at Lance, which would look threatening if not for her sly smile. “Lies, you just hope to see Keith.”
The firestation coffee tastes like shit. It's thick like tar and probably somewhat poisonous. It does the job though, Keith supposes. But what he wouldn't give for one of Lance's brews right now…
He knows who to blame for the shit coffee. Shiro is notoriously bad in a kitchen, so how on Earth he's been granted coffee machine duty at the station is a mystery. He knows Griffin wouldn't drink the stuff if his life depended on it, but then again, he's too much of a suck up to tell Shiro his coffee sucks, so it wouldn't change much. Besides, most of his coworkers prefer catching some sleep at the station during their quiet night shifts, so they can be awake during the day with their families. Keith prefers staying up, even if he has to drink shitty coffee.
Keith likes when he and Lance have overlapping shifts. They get to spend much more time together during those weeks, because they sleep and work at relatively the same time. And Keith loves to cuddle with Lance after a night shift until late in the day, taking everything at their own pace, not dictated by the norms of society. It's like they live in their own little peaceful bubble, undisturbed.
Tonight's been a quiet one. Keith just finished a workout. Staying active is an easy way to keep awake, plus working out at the station has the added bonus of not taking time away from his day with Lance.
Keith enters the lounge and spots Shiro sitting by the first table. The overhead lights are harsh. Keith spots the redness in his captain's eyes and slips his own cup of coffee onto the table in front of Shiro, replacing it with the empty one.
Shiro hasn't even noticed Keith enter, but the new cup snaps him out of his reverie, looking up. Keith smiles at him knowingly as he heads back to the kitchen to refill the empty cup. “Thanks,” Shiro calls after him.
When he returns, Keith takes a seat next to Shiro, sipping the black tar. Despite being an early riser, sprite and ready at the break of dawn, Shiro is not a night owl. He might be able to wake up early, but only as long as he's had his 7 hours. He always struggles with night shifts, but being captain, he often refuses taking rest, as there's always something to be taken care of around station.
Like maintenance reports.
Shiro gulps down the new cup of coffee, drinking as if it will hydrate him. “I needed that.”
Keith hides a humorous smile behind his cup. “I figured.”
“I think I've read the same line at least ten times now,” Shiro chuckles, wiping a hand down his face and leaning back in his chair.
“You should have joined my workout,” Keith points out, matter-of-factly. He had offered it. “Would have woken you right up.”
Shiro just hums in vague agreement, clearly not enthused by a 5:00 am workout like Keith. The response makes Keith snort and the two fall into companionable silence as they drink their coffee.
Then the distress signal comes in. First, a siren, sort of a pre-alarm, wakes up the station, followed by the call from dispatch.
“Station 108, this is dispatch. Multiple units requested at North Rover Road to a residential building fire, reports of occupants trapped.”
Shiro is instantly awake. His sense of duty is remarkable and something Keith has always admired. Keith downs the last of the bitter coffee, biting back a grimace, and rolls his shoulders.
“At least this will keep us awake,” he jokes as they hurry downstairs for the trucks.
Rounding the corner, they immediately spot the fire. They are the first on location.
“Dispatch, this is 33. We’re first on scene at North Rover Road. Heavy fire from second floor, multiple residents outside,” Allura calls over the comms, while Lance quickly parks their truck. He's out in less than a second, pulling on his thick jacket.
“Two engines, truck 1 and 4 are rolling,” dispatch calls back and Lance just about registers it.
Allura is right behind him. There's a lot of residents outside the burning building, many dressed in just their sleepwear or a bathrobe.
“What happened?” Lance asks an elderly man, who's clutching his robe tight around his body in the freezing weather. He's unresponsive, blubbering nonsense to himself while staring at his home in flames. Shock, Lance deduces, leaving the man be for now to check on the other residents.
It's chaos, people screaming and crying; it's difficult to get an overview of the situation. A woman explains how she had alerted the neighbors after detecting smoke, but that the second floor residents are unaccounted for. Someone else claims everyone from second floor already got out.
The fire is licking out the broken windows of the second floor, going rampant.
“Allura,” Lance says in a low breath, catching his coworker alone. “How many might be trapped because they were asleep?”
Allura gives him a knowing, pained look. “We have to wait for—”
She's cut off by a sudden explosion from the second floor. Everyone cowers and the residents scream. Lance looks back up the building, a new eruption of flames bursting out the windows and in the same second, someone stumbles out the front door. It's a woman with a child in her arms, held close to her chest. She's howling, throat sounding raw. Lance runs to her, catching her when she stumbles. She can barely hold herself upright.
“Help, please,” she cries in pure desperation and Lance drags her away from the building quickly.
“You’re safe, I got you,” he tries to soothe.
“No, please!” Suddenly she's resisting. “My husband is in there and m-my girls!”
Lance is instantly on high alert. He grabs both her shoulders and turns to face her. “How many?”
“Two,” the woman sobs. Lance catches Allura's eyes. He pushes the woman forwards and out of harm's way and then hurries to the truck, grabbing the little gear they have that can protect him.
Putting on his helmet, approaching the building, Allura tries to intervene. “Lance—”
“Allura, we got two girls and a father up there.”
“Trucks are on their way, they have the proper gear—” Allura tries to placate, but Lance is not listening.
“Call it in,” he says, putting on the gloves and avoiding her horrified stare.
“They're gonna be here—”
“We don't have time, call it in!” Lance turns and darts towards the building.
Faintly, he hears Allura call his name, but he doesn't stop.
Shiro and Keith's truck pulls out of station only minutes after receiving the distress call, followed by Griffin, Kinkade and Leifsdottir in truck 4. As soon as they hit the streets, their sirens are on and they rush down the forever busy nightly streets of Oriande.
Their radio crackles to life. “This is dispatch. Medics on site are attempting a rescue, be ready to back up.”
Keith's blood runs cold. Alarmed, he instantly reaches for the microphone. Shiro glances at him from the corner of his eyes.
“What unit?” Keith asks.
There's a brief pause before the response comes through and the wait is agonizing. Keith tries to convince himself it isn't Lance, that there are so many other units on duty, so why would it be Lance—
“Unit 33.”
The plastic microphone creaks in his palm, his grip suddenly iron tight. Keith just about catches the change in Shiro's expression; his concern does nothing to calm Keith's growing trepidation. He turns to glare out the window, seeing the lights speed by, yet wishing they could go faster.
“That fucking idiot.” He's already shaking when he lifts a hand to bite his nails. A nervous habit; Lance hates it, says it's disgusting.
The trucks arrive on scene and Keith jumps out, going through the motion of getting their equipment and hoses ready, but he keeps an eye peeled on his surroundings, scouting desperately for any sign of Lance. There are multiple EMTs and paramedics on site now, taking care of the injured residents. Yet, he can't spot Lance among them, nor Allura. Keith glances towards Shiro, finding him getting informed by an officer about the situation. With a half-hearted apology, Keith abandons his task and the team. He knows they have it covered, despite Griffin's protest. Heart beating wildly in his chest, he approaches Shiro and the officer, any decency not to interrupt thrown out the window; he needs to know.
“Any news on the EMT who entered the building?” He speaks rushed, sounding exactly as frantic as he feels.
“Keith,” Shiro placates and his tone is enough of an answer; even before the officer replies, Keith knows. They haven't found him. Lance is still in there.
“I don't know, sir, we just arrived on scene—”
Keith is already rushing towards the building, ignoring Shiro calling after him, his voice drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears and his thundering heartbeat.
When he burst through the doors, the fire greets him, an explosion of heat enveloping him, trying to warn him. But he perseveres.
It's difficult to navigate inside. There's smoke everywhere and the fire is rampant, licking aggressively at any material that will sustain it's hunger. Everything creaks and howls under the intense attack. Even with his protective equipment, Keith is sweating from the scorching heat. There's no way Lance's simplified gear could have protected—
Keith shakes the thought from his mind. He has to keep it together; anxiety won't do him any favors right now, it's not a good state of mind to operate under. If he doesn't get himself under control, he's more prone to make mistakes and in these circumstances that can be fatal.
He wills himself to breathe deeply, slower, getting enough oxygen into his lungs from his air tank, as he proceeds forwards.
The report had stated the fire had started on an higher level, but in the time between the call and their arrival, the flames have also spread to the lowest floor. Keith searches and searches, diligently, but hastily going through the hallway and peering into the apartments. There's no way he will have time to search each thoroughly. And besides, instinct tells him he has to advance to the second floor; if someone had been trapped, it would make sense it was closer to the fire's origin. He feels delirious trying to navigate the place. What had once been a straightforward hallway has become a maze of collapsed, burning material. Keith squeezes by a pile of rubble from where the floor above has collapsed. His jacket catches on a protruding metal rod, but he manages to wiggle himself free, praising the thick material for protecting him from what would otherwise have been a deep cut. The smoke has gotten thick; it's impossible to see ahead. Keith drops to the floor and crawls, his visibility slightly improved here, underneath the heavy blanket of smoke.
Finally, he finds what must be the stairs to the next floor. He gets up into a crouch, rushing closer, only to stop dead in his tracks by the first step.
Five steps up, the staircase has completely collapsed. The fire is gorging on the wooden material, devouring mercilessly and making any hope of advancement impossible. Keith stares in disbelief, feeling panic rice in his throat. Is Lance still up there? If he didn't make it outside, then he must be. Keith starts hyperventilating. What is he supposed to do? This is dangerous, he's not getting enough oxygen, he's going to pass out if this keeps up. But he can't will himself under control. The all-consuming fear that Lance is still trapped upstairs makes it impossible to breathe, to move. The fire is steadily growing before his very eyes, the heat blinding, but Keith is numb to it, already feeling dizzy.
He snaps out of his trance when a pair of strong hands shake him, hard. Blinking, he sees Shiro, eyes intense and mouth saying… something. He can't really hear it. But a second later, they are moving, Shiro leading him to safety. He's not sure which way they escape, but the minute they make it out, the cold air hits Keith like a slap to the face.
He removes his mask, his insulating hood and draws a desperate breath, throat raw and hoarse.
Shiro is instantly on his case. "What the hell did you think you were doing?!" Shiro never swears; this is serious. But Keith doesn't care. All he can think about is Lance, Lance, Lance. Where is he? "I understand your urgency, but we never throw ourselves into the fire like that! With no plan, no back-up."
Keith brings his hand up to bite his nails. He's shaking violently. Why did Lance do it? Why didn't he just fucking wait for backup?!
"What would have happened if I hadn't come in to get you out?" Shiro urges and draws a breath, sounding a little more frazzled than he wants to let on. "Keith—" With his tone softening, Keith's patience runs out and he abruptly stands up and starts pacing. They've exited out into some back-alley. Keith has half a mind to run back into the burning building, deliriously thinking he might find a way to save Lance; that by entering from this side, he might find another way upstairs. Lance might still be trapped, but he's not dead. Keith refuses to believe it, despite his anxiety telling him otherwise.
"Keith," Shiro says again, trying to snap him out of it. It doesn't work, but he continues nonetheless. "If you had just waited one second, you—"
"Keith," Allura's voice cuts through Shiro's reprimand, and effectively captures Keith's full attention. He snaps his head to her figure in the opening of the alleyway, her silhouette bathed in red and blue lights. She looks ethereal, like an angel send from heaven to deliver the message he's desperate to hear. Because Allura was with Lance. She must know.
"Allura," Keith cries, rushing to her. "Where is he?"
As he approaches, he notices the excessive amount of soot and grime covering her face, and her jacket is smeared with blood. She gently grabs his arm, grounding him and her lips twitch upwards in a slight smile, tinted with remorse. Keith searches her eyes desperately, feeling winded.
"He got out," she says, the calmness of her voice forced; something she has perfected over the years as a paramedic. Keith sees right through it and a pit drops in his stomach. But then she squeezes his arm, reassuringly, and even if it's fake, it works. "He's over there, they're about to take him in." Allura points to a medical transport parked a little further down. Keith bolts.
He can't see him. Keith won't believe it until he sees him and he has to make it before they take him in; he has to know he's alright and that he will be alright. God, Keith hopes he's not strapped to a gurney, that his injuries aren't so severe. He hopes he has no injuries at all, but that is wishful thinking. He did run into a burning building with improper gear.
Keith almost crashes into an officer as he rounds the back of the truck, but he doesn't register her disgruntled comment as she walks away, because Keith immediately sees him, sitting on the back of the truck.
Lance. Alive.
Keith releases a breath, coming out more like a sob and skids to his knees in front of Lance, completely crumbling, unable to hold himself upright any longer as relief crashes over him like a wave, dousing the rampant fire of fear that had been raging within him.
Keith grabs his hands desperately, resting his forehead on Lance's knees.
"You made it," Lance sounds much too conversationally for this. And finally Keith looks up at him and properly takes him in. Much like Allura, Lance has soot all over, his face and hair an entirely different shade than usual. His eyes are bloodshot and his nose and mouth are covered by an oxygen mask. Which is worrisome in itself, but the cooling blanket wrapped around his shoulders concerns Keith significantly more.
"Are you insane?!" Keith snaps. "You were supposed to wait for backup!! Don't you ever do that again, don't you dare scare me like that!"
Lance squeezes his hand and takes off the oxygen mask.
"But we saved them," Lance says proudly, without an ounce of regret. His voice sounds rougher than Keith has ever heard. "The children. We got them out." And his smile says it all; he would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to.
"You fucking idiot." Keith reaches up and puts the oxygen mask back over his mouth. "You have to keep this on."
"But I want a kiss for my heroics," Lance chuckles, broken by a cough and reaches for the mask again.
"Lance," Keith tries to stop him, but Lance swats his hand away. Keith is quicker, though, grabbing his wrist and holding it in a firm grasp when he tries to wrestle free. "You need to—"
"Keith," Lance interrupts, voice suddenly serious and frail. "Please."
Keith loosens his grip, but doesn't let him go, eyes scanning Lance's face. His eyes are pleading, tears brimming. Slowly and without breaking eye contact, Keith pulls the oxygen mask off. Lance, now breathing without the mask, sounds raspy. With gentle hands, Keith cups his face, thumbs wiping at the dirt futilely. The first tears falls, leaving trails. Keith catches them. His own eyes start to burn, so he closes them hard and leans in, kissing Lance with a careful ferocity. Keith can tell Lance is scared from just how desperate he kisses him back.
They keep the kiss short, Keith breaking away and swallowing thickly as he's putting the mask back on Lance. His partner doesn't fight him, just smiles weakly, a fragile lift to the corner of his mouth, contradicting the emotions in his eyes. Lance runs his hands through Keith's sweat-damp hair, carting it with his fingers and holding him close by the neck. No words are exchanged between them, but their eyes never leave each other.
"We're ready to head back," a paramedic says to the pair. Keith hadn't even noticed her.
He doesn't want to let Lance go yet; he feels like he just got him back from the dead. Yet, he knows Lance needs treatment.
Standing up, Keith turns to the paramedic. "How bad is it?" He knows he won't get a straight answer out of Lance. He would walk on a broken bone and still try to hide it, if he could.
The paramedic casts a quick glance to Lance, expression unreadable. "Non-productive cough and shortness of breath, extensive second to third degree burns on large portion of the back, smaller lacerations and bruises," her tone is professional, a little curt, but not unkind. Keith takes it all in, breath quickening. "But a doctor needs to make the final diagnosis," the paramedic adds, before walking off to find her colleague.
"Please don't freak out," Lance begs, taking Keith's hand where he stands frozen, terrified. Lance tugs on his hand to get his attention. When Keith looks at him, Lance once again gives him a pleading look, but matching it with as convincing a smile as he can muster. "I'll be okay," he tries to reassure, squeezing Keith's hand.
The paramedic returns with her driver. "We have to go," she says, this time addressed to Lance.
Lance gives her a quick nod and stands up. Instinctively, Keith turns to catch him, but Lance is steady on his feet. One hand holds the cooling blanket wrapped around him, the other lifts to caress Keith's cheek. "Go," Lance all but whispers with the mask still on. "Go, do your job. Come see me after, okay?"
Keith wants to argue back, insist he's going with him, but there's a steely determination in Lance's eyes, begging him. Begging him to not worry, begging him to finish the job, begging him to save whoever else might be stuck in there.
When Lance sees the understanding in Keith's eyes, his hand drops, a tiny appreciative smile grazing his lips. He turns to the paramedic then, his demeanor shifting with a playful glint in his eye, even if Keith knows it's forced. "Besides, Kelly here is going to take very good care of me, isn't that right, Kelly?" Keith watches as Lance gets loaded into the truck, continuing his flirty banter, which Kelly seems entirely immune to.
"Kogane!" Griffin calls. He sounds pissed. "Get your ass over here!"
Keith is rooted to the spot, feeling torn. He shoots Lance one last look before the doors close and their eyes lock. The last thing he sees is Lance's genuine smile, reassuring him, and a familiar wink, giving him courage. He nods, swallowing thickly. He has a job to do.