5SOS Imagines

Ashton - Firefighter AU

Author: Rhine

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You worried for him.

You always did, even though he weighed three times more than you; was two heads taller and twice as stocky.

You worried for him because even though Ashton was made up of sinewy muscle and callused palms, you knew that he was nothing but a gentle heart on the inside.

It was what you loved about him.

How he always cared – not just for you, but for everyone around him. For those he’d never meet, for those he didn’t even know.

It was typical Ashton – to help strangers with groceries, to donate to the stick-legged kids holding out empty boxes with their thin arms. It was so much like him to stop whatever he was doing to help someone else – fixing a broken down car, looking for a lost dog, stopping by shelters during the winter, playing with kids when they needed another person for their team.

He cared, he loved in a world that gave him nothing in return for it.

And he did it all with a wide dimpled smile with a bright voice that said no worries, I’m more than happy to help.

But you always wondered – you always worried about at what expense it had to him. How much it cost him to muster a smile for someone else when he couldn’t even do it for himself. How much of his heart he gave away to people who didn’t know what to do with it; how to take care of it.

You promised, you swore to yourself that you’d always take care of him.

He gave you the biggest piece of his heart, and there’s nothing in the world you wouldn’t do for the boy who did so much for the world.

He deserved that much, at the very least.

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You always waited for him.

It didn’t matter how he told you to get some sleep first – I don’t know when I’ll be back babe, just get some rest – because you couldn’t sleep knowing that he was out there, risking his life for someone else’s.

You couldn’t sleep when there was always that possibility that he wouldn’t come back. That one night, you’d sit up and wait and wait and wait for nothing but a phone call that said I’m sorry in a voice that wasn’t his own.

You couldn’t sleep until he came back home with flattened hair and circles under his eyes and shoulders drooping from exhaustion but lips still managing to quirk up at the sight of you, arms still ready to hold you again.

He always worked the strangest hours – he’d get called in at a moment’s notice and then he’d leave in a split second with a hurried goodbye, I love you and a promise to be back soon, though you both knew the chances were slim.

You were often lonely and drowning in your own fears and worries, but it was seeing him – seeing him at the doorway with a tired but proud beam on his face that said we did it – it was seeing him so happy that made it all worth it.

He put his life at risk time and time again – to help someone he didn’t know, to save people who  wouldn’t even know his name – and while his job worried you sick on a regular basis, it was what he loved to do at the very core.

Helping others.

He took pride in his hard red helmet that flattened his bronze curls, took pride in his heavy black shoes and worn uniform that signified a successful job well done, time and time again.

Ashton took pride in the title he wore, in what he brought to the people.

Hope. Rescue. Assistance.

It was all he ever wanted, and you weren’t one to stop the beautiful boy from living out his dreams, not when he smiled so wide in his pictures with the rest of his crew, all suited up.

The other firefighters teased him for his boyish dimples, but you knew that his stocky build of muscle and firm determination proved his worth in the field.

He’d be the first to get called, the first on the truck speeding towards the accident, the first to call for a rescue operation and the first to enter a burning building.

And while you were so, so proud to call this wonderfully heroic man your own, there was always a part of you that would always worry the moment his phone rang that shrill ringtone that signified the station.

Because you knew he’d be the first to risk his life.

And you always worried that he’d be the last person he thought about when it came down to it.

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He always thought of you, for some reason.

Whenever he was suited up in his sweaty gear and sitting on the floor of the firetruck as it wailed through the streets at top speed, Ashton thought of you.

He thought of you and how you always whispered to him come home safe, and how he’d always return to find you curled up on the couch, trying to hide the anxious creases in your forehead with a small smile.

He can feel the cool metal of the chain necklace you gave him pressed up onto his sweaty collarbones underneath the thick suit, and Ashton remembers the promise he makes to you every time.

I’ll be back.

Ashton was never good at thinking of himself – but thinking of you, oh god, thinking of you – he could go on forever.

He could get lost in the thought of you for decades.

And you find it awfully funny because a boy as remarkable as Ashton couldn’t think of himself as amazing as he thought of you.

Plain old you, who cared for him on long nights, on early mornings. The one who fixed him a meal whenever he came home, no matter what hour it was. The one who scrubbed the soot from his sore muscles with gentle fingers; the one whose calming scent was the only thing he smelled through the smoke and ash that lingered on his skin.

Because every time he’s running into a burning building with the heavy equipment strapped to his back, he remembers how he used to carry you on his back and run for miles for his training, the sound of your shrieks of delight and giggles in his ear echoing above the roaring of the flames.

Because every time he lifts that heavy hose, he’s reminded of the time you spurted him with the garden hose, kissing underneath the sprinkling droplets from the winding green hose, the cool taste of your lips calming him in his layers of sweat.

Because every time he smells the thick smoke, he remembers the time you accidentally set the smoke alarm off in the house and how he leaped out of bed and had you in his arms and out the door in less than a minute while you laughed, trying to explain to him it was just a minor baking mishap gone wrong.

Because every time he goes inside a burning building and all he sees is red, he recalls the exact shade of your lips and how he wants to taste them one last time.

You’re his motivation – to put out a blazing fire, to salvage what he can from the debris, to do his job as best as he can – but most importantly, to come home.

They teach him in training how self-preservation is his number one priority – you save yourself first, got it? – but he doesn’t remember the words until he thinks of you.

And in a way, you save him when he’s being too careless while caring for someone else.

Because he’s always been rather selfish when it came to you – he always wants more, he’ll always want you and you’ll always be the first person in his heart, in his mind.

He’d risk his life for you.

He’d save his life for you.

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