“What the is wrong with you?” 

Seungwan had a strange relationship with confidence. Most of the time, he had it in spades.

He’d graduated top of his class. He knew he was a good firefighter, and he knew his place on the team.

He had lots to learn still, but he was capable. 

And then there were moments like this, when his restless energy converted in the wrong direction to overstepping.

Seungwan knew his riding position was to support his crew. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be the first off the truck.

But they’d arrived at a medical distress call, a child couldn’t breathe, and frankly, Seungwan ran faster than everyone else on his team.

“It wasn’t a fire. We can all do CPR,” Seungwan muttered. Which hadn’t even been necessary.

The toddler had a febrile seizure and had started breathing again on his own as they arrived. But what he had known in that moment was resuscitation might be needed, and he could be the quickest one there.

Which was the wrong answer, even though it was the right instinct.

The correct answer was that they had systems for a reason, that crew discipline mattered, and he would communicate better next time. 

He didn’t say any of that. 

And it didn’t help that they’d had two volunteers with them for the call, newer trainees who just happened to be in the station at the time.

They were upstairs now, and the volunteers were downstairs. So instead of making lunch, Minsoo was tearing a strip off Seungwan that the younger firefighter was pretty sure everyone in the building could hear. The thin veneer of rank was a farce.

Changmin got in between them. “Okay, let’s take a pause—” Minsoo wasn’t pausing. “You have a lot to learn about being a part of a real team.”

Seungwan forced himself not to roll his eyes. He wasn’t going to react at all.

If having four older brothers had taught him anything, it was that another storm was always on the horizon.

Something else would sweep in soon enough to piss Minsoo off, and until then, Seungwan would just live in the doghouse.

Instead, he just nodded.  And after another blustery grumble, Minsoo let it go.

They only had one more call that night, a car fire that meant significant cleanup at the site, and Seungwan took extra care to follow both procedure and the team routines he’d learned in his short time with them.

It was a by-the-book call out with no room for Minsoo to criticize him.

He didn’t get a “good job, kid” after, but he wasn’t yelled at again, either.

Not by his teammates, anyway. And not while he was on shift.

The next morning, after they’d handed over to the next crew, and Seungwan was dragging his weary to his jeep, he saw Baekhyun waiting for him.

A concerned older brother ambush. Just ing great. 

“I’m tired,” Seungwan said as he tossed his bag in the passenger door.

Baekhyun followed him around to the driver’s side. “What happened last night?”

Seungwan frowned. “Were you even in the building then?”

“News travels fast.”

“It wasn’t ing news.” Seungwan scrubbed the heel of his hand into his eye socket. He was so tired.

Sighing, he leaned against the side of his jeep and rolled his neck. “Come on. You know how it is with rookies and senior crew members. There’s an adjustment process.”

“You don’t want to get a reputation as being hard to work with.” 

“I’m not hard to work with. I’m as easygoing as it comes. I just...” Seungwan laughed. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I always worry about you.”

“I am aware, and it is exhausting. Please stop.”

Baekhyun scowled. Seungwan gave him an exasperated look. “Come on.” 

“All right. You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Baekhyun gave him a half-smile. “Is Minsoo in one piece?”

“I said nothing. I let him tear into me.” 

“I don’t like that, either.”

“He was right on a technicality, so I let it go.”

Baekhyun clapped him on the shoulder and headed inside. 

Seungwan waited until his brother had disappeared before he climbed into the driver’s seat, and it was another minute before he started the jeep.

It would be hard to make this transition anywhere, to any fire service.

Doing it in his home town, in a building his brother managed—that wasn’t better or worse, he figured.

Just complicated. And exhausting. 

Seungwan had said that out loud to Baekhyun, and he felt it in his bones.

All he wanted to do was go home and rack out.

But when he walked into his kitchen and smelled something bad, he knew sleep wasn’t going to happen immediately. 

At first Seungwan worried the breaker had blown and the fridge had been without power for twenty-four hours, but that wasn’t it. 

Holding his hand over his nose, he took a deep breath and thought