Statehouse Thoughts & Headcannons

Please dont divorce me

-chaoticdumbass- you're very rawr and chaotic, much brain, please take this peace offering

(Fire safety history knowledge sponsored by my 7th grade ELA notes (this is the Florida education system so I can't guarantee accuracy))

Notice: York and Connecticut aren't brothers in this, sorry

——————

New York walked into the living room to see Colorado laying on the couch.
Fire season had been hitting hard this year and the state had been putting so much effort into not filling the whole damn house with smoke he wasn't able to,, well, smoke.

So Colorado looked like shit.

His clothes were a mess and his hat was close to sliding off, goggle having been completely discarded. There was what looked like soot that had manifested as smudges on his face. A blanket was laying half on the floor, half on his legs while there were multiple melted ice packs on his head and chest.

It looked like he had spent all night there.

Now, New York has some of the best safety measures out of any state. In fact, most fire safety laws, labor reforms, and building regulations of other states were modeled after the ones he put in place after the triangle factory fire.

This doesn't mean he doesn't have any, wild fires are still a thing, but he doesn't have many dumb people burning down the city and he definitely doesn't have fire season.

The only fires he's ever really felt are the big ones from disasters that just have to happen every 100 years or so because why not. Every time one does was he's either to weak to get help or (most recently) straight up can't remember the details because he blocked it out. 1835, 1911, 2001, all sucked and the only things he can remember is what the fire, destruction, and death felt like.

For the life of him he can't remember what helped, what anyone did that made something better, outside of actually putting out the fires. New York pulls himself from his thoughts when he realizes he's been standing at the doorway way too long. Colorado is still on the couch, mind too foggy with heat and exhaustion to have ever noticed York.

He still looks pitiful as ever, why can't someone else help him.

...no one else would be helping Colorado, would they.

Deciding to screw it and just go with whatever he thinks would help based on how fires feel along with what he knows about being sick, he heads back to the hall where his room is, rummaging through the hall closet before heading to the kitchen.

Fucker better be thankful.

——————

This sucks.
Fire season sucks, fevers suck, cold flashes suck, the way the couch sticks to him when he shifts sucks, this sweaty grimy feeling sucks, him being too tired to even get up and wash it off sucks, and not having any drugs to help sucks.

Everything sucks.

Colorado had collapsed onto the couch almost immediately after dinner the previous night, accidentally commandeering the entire living room in the process. DC had told him to go to bed and rest if the fires were getting that bad but once he'd done his best to explain that no DC, he's too tired to get up, my room is all the way upstairs DC, I will pass out right now DC, don't make me do it.