#Firefighter halsin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedros-immaculate-vibes · 2 months

Text

Smoke and Mirrors II

BG3 AU, where Professor Dekarios and his TA, Meg, have an emergency that brings the fire department and one very tall, tattooed medic to the scene.

(AKA the one where you have a crush on your coworker professor and Halsin is a firefighter paramedic with suspenders and doorways) (I regret absolutely nothing)

@general-dweebous HAPPY ACTUAL BIRTHDAY

“So, tell me what happened.” The medic stood next to you, toothpick between his lips, leaning one arm against the desk and other hand on his hip. He had just assigned five of his men to open the rest of the windows to ventilate the room after making sure the fire was actually smothered. One had left a bag of supplies near Halsin to better treat your ankle before going to turn the alarm system off. The cross breeze ruffled his long hair; most of it was tied into a bun in the back, but the bunker gear must have mussed it a bit since it now very much resembled—

Ohhhhhkay, he’s asking me something, stop thinking about sex hair …and the way he probably looks half naked with the suspenders on, …ohh gods now it’s worse.

Your thoughts were like a litter of kittens in a box full of catnip-flavored toys.

“Sorry, um the pain isn’t helping me focus.” It was true. It wasn’t the entire truth, but it was part of it.

“Hmm, understandable. Was anyone else there to witness how you’d fallen?” The medic kneeled down to one knee to get a better look at the ankle.

“I don’t think so, I kind of careened down the stairs by myself,” you adjusted your skirt back down as subtly as possible.

“Just you?”

“Yup.”

He nodded sagely, “Sounds like you deserve a raise, to say the least. Or maybe consider volunteering some time at the station,” He continued to survey your ankle without touching it. “Once this is healed, of course,” a cheeky smile up at you. He looked back down, “We could use that kind of moxie. Do you mind if I touch you?”

Air left the room. Your face grew hot. “Um—”

“Your ankle, I need to palpate it to make sure it’s not broken.”

“YES, ha, totally. That’s—AHEM—that’s fine.”

The left corner of his lip twitched before he began inspecting the joint. Gently angling your foot, he muttered, “Tell me if it hurts.” It ached in just about every direction, but considering how you could still bend your toes and no particularly ugly bruising seemed to appear, he believed it was likely just a sprain. “Still very unpleasant, but you should be alright in the end. I would still like to bring you in for imaging, however, just to be sure.”

You’d already felt enough like a victim and less like a hero within the past few minutes, x-rays didn’t interest you. “I think I’m fine, I trust your judgement. You seem like you know you’re way around this sort of thing.”

He searched through the supply bag and grabbed an ice pack, lifting an eyebrow, “I’ve been doing this for a few years, yes. It’s a good way to pass the time after work,” a brief smile. You felt your eyes soften as you smiled back. “Here, place this on that ankle and I’ll get everything else ready.” He angled his head toward the professor and the librarian who still stood a foot away. “Can either of you give her a ride back home?”

You hadn’t realized how red the professor had gotten in the meantime. Looks pretty flustered—huh, wonder why.

“Certainly, I’d be happy to. It’s the least I can do after leaving you here alone while I caught up on research.” His jaw tightened.

“Excellent. Now, we should probably get you out of this room after I stabilize the joint, a bit.” The medic continued to gather his supplies, and added, “Thankfully, you wearing a skirt makes what I’m about to do a bit easier.”

He angled your leg up, now parallel with the desk, and began bandaging from the middle of your foot upward, holding your calf steady.

You looked off, trying to have some kind of banter with Rolan about presentations this upcoming week; anything to keep your mind off the warm hands manipulating your leg.

“Alright, that should be good. Is there a teacher’s lounge or something nearby? She’s spent enough time here with all of the smoke filtering out.”

“Yes, down the hall to the right, near the cafe. I can take you,” offered Rolan.

The medic nodded, then turned to you with a sheepish smile as he looked at your ankle. “Now, I don’t think ascending these stairs will help that feel better. We can either use a stairchair to bring you up to the hall or…I can carry you.”

You were about to insist that you were fine, when you slid your leg down and placed weight on it, wincing too hard to say anything. Halsin caught you by your waist as the professor reached out to you too.

“Hey, Bo, the stairchair’s broken, remember? We were gonna get an extra one from station 34 after lunch.”

Halsin sighed, helping you rest against the desk again, “I’d forgotten. Well, that leaves you with two options, Ms…?”

“Meg. Meg Tavve.”

“Ms. Tavve. Either we get a flexible stretcher down here and we all haul you up—”

“Absolutely not.”

He chuckled, “Or, I can carry you.”

You weren’t walking any where quickly, let alone the flight of stairs. A deep sigh, “Sure, if that’s okay with you.” Dread pooled in your stomach at the thought of this gargantuan man carrying you up the auditorium and through the hall. You might never emotionally recover from this. Not from the embarrassment, but from the fact that this would be way hotter than you could process in the moment, possibly ever.

“Of course,” a warm, polite smile. Gingerly, slowly, he hooked his arms behind your back and beneath your knees and smoothly lifted you like a feather. You fixed your glasses out of an anxious habit and could swear your bounding heart rate was audible. He climbed the stairs quickly since his stride naturally took two at a time and hunched through the doorway once more, making sure not to bump your leg against the frame. You recognized most of the students who now stood outside of the classroom; many of them were from your history class, while twice as many seemed to have joined the throng for the thrill. All of their eyes were now on you, however; better yet, they were on the one who carried you. Too self-conscious to wave or say hi to the students as you were carried like a newly wed by a man in bunker gear, you averted your eyes and instead looked at his chest.

MMM, THAT’S a mistake. You heart beat faster.

You looked down at the ice pack in your hands and fiddled with the serrated edge, trying hard to ignore the moment.

Finally, after what seemed like a decade, Halsin arrived at the lounge with Rolan and Gale alongside him. The librarian badged you all in and Halsin ducked once more through the doorframe.

“Must be a pain in the neck to do that all the time,” you commented, trying to ameliorate your nerves with small talk.

“Ha, I’ve gotten used to it. But thank you for the concern,” he grinned down at you, toothpick jutting from side to side in his lips.

Your face somehow burned even hotter as you smiled tightly back, then resumed investigating your hands.

“This couch is the most comfortable,” informed Gale.

“Let’s have you raise this leg on the arm of it,” the medic mused, lowering you to the cushions. You lay there, leg elevated a few inches above the other as Gale scrambled around the room to collect any pillows. Outside, you could hear the Vice Principle try to contain the crowd. you looked toward the uncovered window pane that showed the hall: faces of several undergrads with their phones out covered every available inch of the window.

“If you’re situated, I’ll see how things are progressing with my crew, then come back.” You nodded and out he went. Unsurprisingly, half of the crowd diminished beyond the window.

Gale arrived at your side and motioned for you to lift your back slowly before sliding three pillows behind it, “How’s that, Pidge?” A nickname he’d given you after two semesters together. You had both been reading a classic where the main character, Pidge, had reminded him of you. She was stubborn yet helpful and willing to go into harms way for those she traveled with. The nickname stuck and you didn’t mind. Not a bit.

His voice had taken a sweeter, lower tone than you’d ever heard him use. “Much better, thanks. Any chance we can reschedule that coffee while we grade papers?”

A laugh that seemed like a release valve had opened came from the disheveled professor. “After all that’s happened, and that’s what you’re thinking about? I still don’t know how your priorities work.”

“Well, I was just looking forward to it, I suppose.”

His shoulders drooped and his eyes softened. A moment passed. “Of course.” Another moment passed.

The two of you hadn’t looked away. “Yes…well, considering,” he spoke slowly, as if willing the words out, “how I do believe the exam wasn’t concluded before our impromptu little bonfire,” the two of you giggled for a second, “I think we’ll have to reschedule the…exam, as well,” a brief flicker of his eyes to your lips. “If, however, you still would like a caffeinated study session, I could show you the article I was reading? Once you’re feeling up to it.”

“I’d like that,” your eyes bounced from his left to his right, then back again. You hadn’t noticed until now that within his chocolate brown eyes were flecks of vibrant green around the pupils, probably because you’d never been this close to him before. So close, you could almost feel the warmth radiating from him as he knelt by the couch.

“Is she alright?” A stern but concerned voice sounded behind the professor. Dean Aylin stood there, arms crossed with one foot in the doorway for a quick escape. She wanted information to be disseminated as quickly as possible so everyone would get back to normal. Probably, so she could return home to her fiancé on time.

“I’m good! Almost done getting patched up, at least according to the medic. He wanted to come back and check something, first.”

“Good. I’ll let these zealots know,” with that, she swung the door wide open and shouted for everyone to return to their classes or wherever they came from. Some of them listened while others left only to return after she’d moved on.

“Now that most of the drama has concluded, do you need me to get you anything? Besides an injury report form, I mean,” Rolan asked, stirring a tea he had just made.

Always the logical one. Of the three of you, he’d always been the one focused on the topic at hand with very little emotional input. He was a vital part of your trio. “If you don’t have anything more important to do, I think that would be great.”

“Certainly. It would give me something besides organizing late rentals.” He headed toward the door, “Don’t set anything else aflame, alright?” He gave you a knowing smirk. “We can’t keep those fireman here all day.” Before you could add something to that, he was gone, but not before chastising the students in his way.

“Oh my goodness, you still haven’t eaten anything, you must be starved.” Gale bounced up to his feet. “Let me get you something. Turkey sandwich? A parfait? What would you like?” He held his palms together and waited.

“Uh, I hadn’t thought of that, anything that looks good I guess. You don’t have to, you know, I think I’m fine.”

“Nonsense! You have to keep that blood sugar up,” he paced to the door. “I should know. You’ve seen me when I don’t eat for a while. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” And with that, he left. You lay there, smelling of smoke and feeling dizzy from everything that had happened. Fuck, I left my phone in that room. You held your forehead as you looked up to the ceiling, realizing it would be just you and your thoughts until someone returned.

Minutes ticked by. You kept thinking about the fire, how it could have started, the medic, who might have started it, and how that medic had so gently wrapped your ankle. You felt your face turn beet red at the memory.

The toothpick between his lips when he smirked. His voice. What those hands would be capable of in other situations—

You threw your hands over your face in a frustrated fury, “OH MY GOD, I’m Not helping ANYTHING. FUCK.”

“What?” The same voice came from the door.

You froze in place.

“Are you alright? Does it feel worse?”

“I’m fine! I mean, besides the ankle, I’m fine. I was just—thinking about everything that happened and its just…a lot, haha.” You were getting pretty good at vague truths.

“Indeed. I’m sure they’ll be singing your praises within these halls for generations.” He stood, one arm leaning against the doorway. Questions and voices surged passed the crack in the door. He opened it slowly, thanked everyone for their concern, then recommended they all go about their business. Gingerly, he closed the door. Halsin looked at you, drawing the shades down over the window. “This door locks on its own, right?”

Your mouth went dry and you think your eyes fluttered. “Y-yes.”

“Good. Those students are either very nosey or quite thirsty.” He pointed to the coffee machine. “Do you mind if I—”

“No, not at all!”

“Thank you.” He slid his suspenders down off and rolled his shoulders back, stretching his neck. “We were at lunch when the call came, I had just gotten my coffee.” He stood at the counter, back toward you and reached for a mug.

“Sorry to have ruined your coffee break,” you replied, a hint of humor in the delivery.

He half-turned his face toward you, a raised eyebrow visible as he poured his coffee. Something between a sigh and a chuckle left him. He pivoted toward you, “I’ve had worse calls break the pleasure of a morning’s first sip.” His lips crested the mug as he held your gaze.

You had definitely stopped breathing.

“What do you teach?”

“Oh, I’m a teacher’s assistant. Professor Dekarios teaches history.”

“Mm, professor Dekarios. Do you always call him that?” He angled his head at you.

“Well, no, his first name’s Gale, I’ve just gotten used to calling him that when referring to him to others,” you began to ramble, “but when it’s just us, I generally just call him Gale.”

“Mm-hmm,” a smirk. He looked down, one hand wrapped around the mug handle while the other rested in his pocket as he leaned against the counter. “Given that you seem to be good friends with the professor, is there a chance he could persuade you into getting that ankle x-rayed?”

Oh, this again. You failed to subdue your sass and gave an eye roll in response. His smile brightened.

“Is that why you’re still here?”

“Partly.” He took his hand and rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he walked toward the door. “If you’ve seriously injured yourself while saving your pupils, and I allowed you to continue as if you hadn’t, I would be doing a hero a dishonor,” he shook his head, mockingly, now leaned against the wall in front of the doorway.

“Fine,” your heckles stood up on end. “What’ll it take to get you to believe me that I’m alright?”

He reached a finger out. “Come over here.”

You blinked. Your face flushed.

He repeated himself seeing as you didn’t respond. “Come. To me.”

It was almost degrading. “But my ankle—”

“If it hurts too much to walk this short way, supporting yourself on nearby objects and putting as little weight on it as possible, then you should let me take you. The ice should have helped a bit by now.” He crossed his free arm over his chest and took another sip. “So come.”

You grumbled a few choice phrases as you situated yourself to stand. One foot down, then the other. You expected your ankle to flare up again with excruciating pain, but instead, there was a dull throb. You frowned in surprise and began lifting yourself up carefully. Slowly, holding your weight on the backs of futons and sturdy tables in the lounge, you crossed the nearly two yards toward this unconventional medic. Weren’t they supposed to help then leave? Why is he still making this an issue?

The medic continued to drink his coffee, watching you make your way toward him, skirt rustling with each step. In another minute, you were standing by the doorway, holding yourself up against the wall, two feet away from him.

“Did you want me right in front of you, or is this good enough?” You asked with as sarcastic an air as you could muster, given how glad you were that you could, in fact, walk a little bit.

He finished the cup of coffee, eyes bright, “That’s good enough.” He placed the mug on a nearby table, “It seems you’ve proven me wrong, Ms. Tavve.” A smirk.

Your shoulders relaxed and your temper quelled. “Call me Meg.”

His eyes warmed the slightest bit, and he leaned away from the wall. His right hand reached the top angle of the door frame as he shifted his weight closer toward you. One hand on his hip, the other a foot above your head, he towered over you. “Well, you’ve proven me wrong, Meg.”

Time stopped again. You had certainly forgotten how to breath.

You thought your knees would give out right as the Professor badged the door open and almost walked straight into the medic’s bicep. Pausing with a scowl, Gale looked up at the medic, then down to you with surprise.

“You’re up and about! That was fast,” with a smile.

He stared back at the medic and cleared his throat. Halsin, slowly straightened back up, toothpick swerving between his lips again, and held you in his eyes. Gale cleared his throat as he walked passed him, headed for a nearby table.

“I found broccoli and cheese soup, if that’s okay. I’m pretty sure it’s one of your favorite’s.”

Halsin nodded toward you, “You’ve got good taste.”

“Ha, y-yeah, sometimes.” You caught yourself and realized he meant in food, not in men. “Thank you, Gale.” You blinked and shook your head, “Maybe I do need to eat something, I’m feeling a little woozy.”

In a moment, the professor shot to your side and held your arm, “Yes, well, you’ve had a very busy day and very little time for yourself. How about we get something in your stomach and then I’ll bring you home, mm?”

You sat down and looked at the tray he’d brought you: every single one of your favorite dishes the on-campus restaurant was known for serving on a Thursday. “Oh my gods, how much do I owe you?”

He waved his hand, “Nothing. Consider it payment for that tray of cookies that one time.”

You beamed, realizing they hadn’t been forgotten.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the medic grab a paper and pen and scribble something down. You swiveled your head towards him as he came over. “In case anything should come up regarding that leg, here’s the station number,” he placed the scrap of paper in front of you.

You looked at it. There were two phone numbers there.

“What’s the second one?”

“In case you’re interested in having a medic familiar with that leg inspect it again.”

A wink.

“Make sure no one else sets any fires, mm?” He nodded toward Gale.

The professor stayed quiet.

Halsin made a quick wave and headed out of the lounge.

“Are they always that unpleasant?” Grumbled the professor, watching him leave.

You were still reeling from having two of your ideal men in the same room, both equally interested in having your attention. If only you could replay the day, one more time.

#Smoke and mirrors #bg3 #au #gale #halsin #paramedic halsin #Firefighter halsin #Professor dekarios #fanfic

15 notes · View notes