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It’s been intimidating, having their paramedic field chief ride along with her as PIC today. Of course, she knew she was a competent paramedic, but still. She had never been so thankful that one of her patients had survived. That poor little baby.
After the stress of that call, she was also thankful the rest of their evening had been somewhat q-word. It was after midnight and most of the house finally succumbed to bed, minus Squad, who just got called out. Honestly it was kind of eerie, being here when it was this…void of noise. There was always Hermann telling an outrageous story, Ritter and Gallo arguing about something stupid, Capp and whatever his antics were that day.
She’d been unable to sleep - the adrenaline from their call had yet to wear off and it didn’t help that Mouch was snoring up a storm. And she may have noticed that Hawkins wasn’t in his bed yet either. Stumbling down to the common room, Violet decided to make some chamomile tea, in hopes that it would soothe her to sleep. She leaned against the counter and rubbed her eyes as she waited for the kettle to warm.
She felt kind of silly, but she was a little nervous to sleep next to Hawkins. Obviously there was nothing going on, but, like she’d mentioned to Brett, there had definitely been a vibe between them. Unless she’d made it all up in her head? It wasn’t like her track record with guys was stellar - she and Blake had stupidly danced around each other for years.
As soon as it whistled, Violet grabbed the kettle and poured water into her mug.
She dipped her favorite herbal tea into it - hibiscus lemon - when she heard some faint noise towards the locker room. Curiosity got the better of her and Violet padded silently towards it, a result of her boots she'd left lined up next to her bed. The closer she got the louder the noise got, though it was honestly amazing she could hear anything over Mouch’s racket.
She creeped further into the locker room to find one shower running, a pair of male feet and strong ankles visible below the edge of the vinyl. She couldn't see what was going on, because of the shower curtains, but it sounded like skin, moving against skin. Probably just whoever was showering, soaping himself up, Violet rationalized to herself.
Except she'd never heard someone moan while washing dirt off themselves. The telltale noise echoed off the tiled walls, and Violet rubbed her thighs together ever so slightly.
It could be anyone, she told herself. It wasn't like she took a headcount before leaving the bunk room. Just because she knew Hawkins was missing from bed, it didn't mean anything.
Except she'd definitely seen the red and white striped towel that was hanging on the hook earlier. Her mind flashed back to Hawkins unloading his duffle at the beginning of shift, chatting with her amiably as he stashed his stuff in one of the floater lockers.
She willed herself to walk back to the common room, but her feet were frozen in place, her mind's eye conjuring what exactly her Chief was doing behind that flimsy curtain. She could picture water sluicing down his lithe body. Hawkins facing away from the water, bracing himself against the opposite wall. His strong forearm flexing with every stroke his hand made over his dick. His breathing labored as he neared the edge.
Lost in her own imagination, Violet thought of what she would do, were she in the shower with him. It wasn't hard to slip into the daydream, just like she knew Hawkins' fingers would meet little resistance as they reached around her hip and slipped inside her. His head bent slightly down, his teeth grazing gently down her neck. With a thumb insistent against her clit, his index and middle finger would search her inner wall until he found what he was looking for. Once he did, her knees would buckle, the only thing keeping her upright as she came would be his hard body against her back. She felt her body pulse at the idea.
Hawkins' voice and the distinct sound of increased friction, as he so clearly jacked himself off, rose above the sounds of the water, startling her out of her fantasy. "Ohh, fuckkkk."
"Oh my godddd, Violet," he groaned out her name. Violet froze. Holy shit. Had he been imagining her? While he came? At her firehouse?!
She nervously glanced back over her shoulder, but the coast was clear. She knew she should probably be horrified, but she couldn't stop the thrill that went through her at the thought that Hawkins is just as attracted to her as she is to him. Though she was pretty sure she would never be able to look at their locker room the same way again.
The room soon quieted as he turned off the shower and Violet realized that if she didn't start moving, she was going to get caught spying on her boss. While he showered. Shit. While part of her brain was extremely curious exactly what he'd do (to her) if caught, she knew she needed to escape quickly.
She started running back towards the common room, choking back a curse as her hot tea sloshed over the rim of her mug and down her wrist. The panic around the tea caused Violet to slide across the floor, her feet falling out from under her as she ran right into the cinder block wall, landing in a heap on the terrazzo.
"Aaah, fuck," she exclaimed loudly. Running in socks - definitely not her best plan. She hauled herself up and took stock of any injuries.
Not too bad, considering. She definitely scraped the shit out of her forearm on the wall, plus the burning hot water she'd spilled all over her hand. At least her mug had come out unscathed.
Hawkins languidly appeared from around the corner, little spots of water dotting his clean CFD t-shirt. Violet appreciated how well the shirt showed off his broad shoulders and toned chest. Her mind immediately darted back to the locker room, recognizing that his relaxed demeanor had entirely to do with his most recent activities. She felt her cheeks start to redden. His eyes immediately widened when he saw her.
"Jesus! Are you okay? What happened?"
"I, uh," she stammered. Gesturing vaguely between the ground and her feet, she continued, "I guess sock feet and newly-polished floors aren't the best combo.”
“Shit, you’re bleeding. Here, let me see.” He grasped her forearm lightly, bending her elbow back towards her so he could see her injury more clearly. Violet felt tingles of awareness everywhere his fingers touched.
“I don’t think you need stitches, but we’ll see. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He looked at her with such gentle concern that her heart swelled. With a hand on the small of her back, he guided her to the ambulance, shifting his hands to her waist to easily boost her into the rig. She couldn’t help but think about him holding her hips in a whole different context.
Violet sat obediently on the gurney when he gestured to it, and he quickly got to work, taking various items out of cabinets and setting them down on the bench. Now that her adrenaline was waning, her arm was throbbing and she could see that her injury was worse than the scrape she originally thought it was. The bloody gash extended from her elbow to almost halfway down her forearm. Thankfully she’d managed no blood anywhere but her arm so at least she wouldn’t have to trash this uniform.
Hawkins sat down across from her and made quick work of irrigating the wound. She did her best to not wince as the rubbing alcohol hit her skin, but it stung something fierce. The pain must’ve shown on her face because he leaned forward and started gently blowing on her arm, holding eye contact with her the whole time. Violet was pretty sure it was one of the most sensual moments in her whole life.
“Thanks,” she murmured as he leaned back, suddenly very interested in opening the bandages he’d pulled out. She was hyper aware of how close they were, even with his retreat. The back of the ambulance was anything but roomy, and it forced them into quite close quarters. Hawkins’ knees bracketed her own and she could feel warmth from them in the chilly January night. If she leaned forward, she could easily capture his lips with her own.
He chanced a look back up at her and she caught his eyes. “You’re welcome,” he told her with the shy half smile she’d quickly bookmarked as one of her favorites. She watched as he carefully placed the gauze, taping it to her arm with utmost care.
When his thumb stroked down her forearm a few times too many, Violet decided to go for it. She leaned forward, her uninjured left arm rising so her hand could cup his jaw. They were so close, breathing each other’s air, and she waited just a beat. She already knew that he was a good, honorable man (despite the fact that the locker room implied otherwise), and she wanted to give him an opportunity to pull back.
Instead, Hawkins surged forward, his lips capturing hers in a hungry, greedy kiss. She felt him release her right arm, sliding his hand around the back of her neck. He felt like a man possessed, claiming her mouth, and Violet was overwhelmed in the best way possible. Like this man had decided she was his, and he wasn’t sorry about any of it.
Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately given how absurd her day had been - their kiss ended almost as quickly as it started. The bells loudly call for Truck 81 - and Violet and Hawkins sprung apart, both breathing heavily. The back of the rig is open and her coworkers will soon be on the app floor, so she knows they should pull further apart, maybe hop out of the vehicle. But he’s staring at her, looking a bit gobsmacked, probably at what just occurred. She wasn’t quite sure she believed any of it was real either.
Hawkins climbed down from their rig, reaching a hand back up to help her down from the vehicle. They could undoubtedly chalk the touch up to her injury, if anyone from Truck said anything later. Mouch threw them a wave as he navigated the fire truck out of the garage.
They silently walked back towards the bunk room, Hawkins holding each door for her.
He’s gone from take-charge paramedic to sexy and commanding to quietly chivalrous in a matter of minutes, and Violet is ever more endeared.
They both made quick work of climbing in bed, the threat of bells always looming. Violet snuck a glance at him, lying on Brett’s bed across from her. He was lying on his back, and saw her looking out of the corner of his eye. He rolled toward her with a shit-eating grin on his face. She smiled to herself as she rolled over to fall asleep.
Her last thought before sleep took her was that if this was what happened when she thought the word “quiet,” she wouldn’t mind jinxing herself more often.