something about seeing the water droplets reflecting off his co-worker’s toned chest that had caught his eye.
What the hell. Evan gave himself a mental shake.
Brett stopped mid-step when he realized Carmichael was in the bunk room. He watched as the rookie looked him over from head to toe. Brett couldn’t read Carmichael’s face, but the pause that filled the air between them was more than just two co-workers passing between the shower and the bunk room.
Still, whatever it was, Brett knew it had nothing to do with the straight rookie thinking anything sexual. Plus, even if Carmichael was looking at him sexually, which was what Brett could swear he saw in the guy’s gaze, his closet door was bolted firmly shut. Plain and simple, but even if it wasn’t, it still wouldn’t matter. Regardless, of the fact that he had just beat off to the guy in the shower.
The silence dragged on and Brett realized he would need to be the one to break the mute standoff between them.
“We can get a call any minute so if you want to shower, you better hurry the hell up,” Brett knew the anger in his tone was because he was pissed at how Carmichael was affecting him. “We won’t wait for your ass if we get called out.”
Once again, Evan didn’t know what to make of Malone’s behavior. He had no idea what he could’ve done to pissed the guy off, but he was getting tired of being Malone’s verbal punching bag.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Evan’s tone matched Malone’s, but he didn’t bother looking at the guy when he walked to his duffel. Malone didn’t reply before Evan grabbed his shower shit and turned back to the man. Evan frowned at Malone’s back while the man zipped up his jumpsuit.
“You know,” Evan began. “I’ve known some assholes, but you take the cake.” Evan was halfway to the showers when Malone finally answered him.
“Fuck you, rookie .”
Evan turned on his heel and glared at Malone. He knew he should just ignore the fucker, but dealing with Malone’s fucked up mood swings every shift wasn’t going to fly.
“No, dick head. Fuck you!” Evan huffed. “I fucked up in Ybor and I fucking apologized. Shit, I haven’t fucked up again and did everything you fucking asked me to on truck duty so...”
Brett interrupted Carmichael’s tirade. “Look, you little shit, you didn’t do shit other than your fucking job on the truck duty. So, if you expect a fucking pat on the back, don’t hold your breath.”
“A pat on the back? Are you shitting me, asshole? Whatever your fucking problem with me is...”
“Jesus Christ!” Flame’s voice yelled just as loud as Carmichael’s and Malone’s. “The whole fucking station house can hear you two assholes up here.”
Flame wasn’t alone in the door to the bunk room. Brostowski stood next to him. Two things were immediately clear to Malone and Carmichael. Both men appeared to be almost as pissed off as they were and they were both up here in case Malone and Carmichael decided to have a punch up.
“Whatever the fuck is the problem between the two of you,” Flame continued and glared at Malone. “Keep it the fuck out of the station.”
Malone returned Flame’s glare. Whether his co-worker’s boyfriend outed him or not, Flame had some damn big balls preaching about keeping problems out of work. When the shit went down last year between him and Brostowski, the tension in the firehouse was thick enough to cut with a knife. Granted, they never ended up screaming at one another like he and Carmichael seem to keep doing, but still.
“Get your shower, rookie,” Flame ordered Carmichael. “You,” Flame glared at Malone again. “With us.”
Brett wanted to tell Flame to fuck off, but he knew that would only cause more shit around the station. It was bad enough that he kept lashing out at Carmichael because he was pissed at how the guy’s mere presence made him feel. He didn’t need to stir up shit with Flame and, by extension,
What the hell. Evan gave himself a mental shake.
Brett stopped mid-step when he realized Carmichael was in the bunk room. He watched as the rookie looked him over from head to toe. Brett couldn’t read Carmichael’s face, but the pause that filled the air between them was more than just two co-workers passing between the shower and the bunk room.
Still, whatever it was, Brett knew it had nothing to do with the straight rookie thinking anything sexual. Plus, even if Carmichael was looking at him sexually, which was what Brett could swear he saw in the guy’s gaze, his closet door was bolted firmly shut. Plain and simple, but even if it wasn’t, it still wouldn’t matter. Regardless, of the fact that he had just beat off to the guy in the shower.
The silence dragged on and Brett realized he would need to be the one to break the mute standoff between them.
“We can get a call any minute so if you want to shower, you better hurry the hell up,” Brett knew the anger in his tone was because he was pissed at how Carmichael was affecting him. “We won’t wait for your ass if we get called out.”
Once again, Evan didn’t know what to make of Malone’s behavior. He had no idea what he could’ve done to pissed the guy off, but he was getting tired of being Malone’s verbal punching bag.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Evan’s tone matched Malone’s, but he didn’t bother looking at the guy when he walked to his duffel. Malone didn’t reply before Evan grabbed his shower shit and turned back to the man. Evan frowned at Malone’s back while the man zipped up his jumpsuit.
“You know,” Evan began. “I’ve known some assholes, but you take the cake.” Evan was halfway to the showers when Malone finally answered him.
“Fuck you, rookie .”
Evan turned on his heel and glared at Malone. He knew he should just ignore the fucker, but dealing with Malone’s fucked up mood swings every shift wasn’t going to fly.
“No, dick head. Fuck you!” Evan huffed. “I fucked up in Ybor and I fucking apologized. Shit, I haven’t fucked up again and did everything you fucking asked me to on truck duty so...”
Brett interrupted Carmichael’s tirade. “Look, you little shit, you didn’t do shit other than your fucking job on the truck duty. So, if you expect a fucking pat on the back, don’t hold your breath.”
“A pat on the back? Are you shitting me, asshole? Whatever your fucking problem with me is...”
“Jesus Christ!” Flame’s voice yelled just as loud as Carmichael’s and Malone’s. “The whole fucking station house can hear you two assholes up here.”
Flame wasn’t alone in the door to the bunk room. Brostowski stood next to him. Two things were immediately clear to Malone and Carmichael. Both men appeared to be almost as pissed off as they were and they were both up here in case Malone and Carmichael decided to have a punch up.
“Whatever the fuck is the problem between the two of you,” Flame continued and glared at Malone. “Keep it the fuck out of the station.”
Malone returned Flame’s glare. Whether his co-worker’s boyfriend outed him or not, Flame had some damn big balls preaching about keeping problems out of work. When the shit went down last year between him and Brostowski, the tension in the firehouse was thick enough to cut with a knife. Granted, they never ended up screaming at one another like he and Carmichael seem to keep doing, but still.
“Get your shower, rookie,” Flame ordered Carmichael. “You,” Flame glared at Malone again. “With us.”
Brett wanted to tell Flame to fuck off, but he knew that would only cause more shit around the station. It was bad enough that he kept lashing out at Carmichael because he was pissed at how the guy’s mere presence made him feel. He didn’t need to stir up shit with Flame and, by extension,
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