Sean smirked. “That’s not what the ladies say.”
Everyone chuckled even as Tucker glared. “Just for that, you get the one that fell on the ground, Riddick.”
“Hey, man,” Jeff Evans said, coming to shake Sean’s hand. Jeff was one of the old timers in the house, old enough that he remembered when their station house was brand new back in ’84. But he could stretch the line as good as or even better than a lot of the younger men. And he was a hilarious storyteller to boot. “See what happens to you when you’re not on a job?”
Nodding, Sean shrugged. “You shoulda seen the other guy, though.”
Jeff pointed at him. “I believe it.”
Next to greet him was one of their probies, Seth Malone, a twenty-two-year-old who Sean liked to hassle for preferring DC Comics over Marvel. They clasped hands. “How you doing, Sean? It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. What’s been going on?” Sean asked the group, a part of him feeling more at ease for being here.
“We stretched three times last night,” Tuck said, adjusting the DCFD baseball cap on his head. “Structure fires all three times. It was fucking crazy.”
“I heard the sirens at least twice,” Sean said. It was part of what had kept him awake and on edge last night—not being here to help. “You the black cloud around here, probie?” He teased Seth for cursing them with the high frequency of calls. Some people loved a “black cloud” because they wanted to be out there fighting the fire as much as possible, whereas other people prized the “white clouds” whose presence seemed to chase all the calls away. For himself, Sean probably fell on the side of keeping busy. Black clouds were okay by him.
Seth groaned. “Not you, too. It ain’t my fucking fault.” Everyone laughed, razzing him mercilessly because he let them see that it got under his skin. Rookie mistake.
“Chief said you’re off for a whole month,” Jeff said. “That true?”
“Fuckin’ A, probably. I gotta wait for my eye to heal and I’ve got a chest wall injury that makes shit difficult.” Not that he’d ever admit it to Dani, but his chest was a lot sorer today than it’d been yesterday before they christened his black leather couch. He’d actually given in to some pain meds last night, too. Worth it, though. So damn worth it.
“So how stir crazy are you going?” Tuck peered over at him as he flipped the burgers.
Sean crossed his arms, then uncrossed them again when his body immediately began to protest the movement. “This week wasn’t too bad, but yeah, I can feel it coming.”
Meow. The sound was accompanied by a soft rubbing against Sean’s calf.
“Hey, Winston. Did you miss me?” Sean leaned down and scooped the old boy into his arms. He was grey-striped with patches of all-white fur here and there. He meowed again and curled his head into Sean’s palm as he petted him. “I think you did.”
Tucker filled a tray with dogs and another with burgers. “All right, probie. Grab a platter and lunch is served.”
Seth moved his ass like a probie should and then all four of them—well, four a half with Winston—went upstairs to the mess hall. The station’s living quarters weren’t fancy—the floors were a cream-colored linoleum, the walls a plain off-white, the furniture in the dorm rooms generally spartan. But the camaraderie more than made up for the lack of decor in the day-room and the plastic chairs in the mess hall.
By the time they made it up the steps, Winston was purring like a little engine in his hands. Sean swung into the mess hall with the others, and it only took about five seconds for one of the ten or so guys gathered there to do a double-take at his presence. Greetings echoed around the room, causing Winston to swan dive out of his arms.
“Riddick!” a guy about his age named Jersey called out.
“Welcome back, man!” Bobby clapped him on the back. And then the guy cringed. “Shit, sorry.”
“You’re good, B, no worries,” Sean said, shaking another guy’s hand. And another.
Chief came around the table and held out a hand. “How are ya, kid?”
They shook, and Sean met the older man’s gaze. “Getting better every day.”
“That’s what I like to hear. But I thought you were supposed to be, you know, relaxing.” The man shook his head.
“I can sit on my ass here with you fine people as easily I can sit on my ass at home.” Everyone chuckled.
“But you can only eat my meat here, Riddick,” Tucker said to a round of raucous replies and loud guffaws.
Sean held his hands up. “I literally don’t know what to say to that.”
He settled in at one of the tables and piled a plate high. He answered everyone’s questions about what happened to him. When conversation turned to all the routine things firefighters complained or talked about, Sean reveled in the normalcy of it. Damn, being here was good for his mood. Maybe he should’ve come around sooner, even if he wasn’t in fighting condition right now.