Seattle, Friday
Nov. 19th, 2021 01:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
designateddadfriendSomething unknotted between Travis's shoulder blades as he walked through the front doors of Seattle Fire Department Station 19, something he hadn't been consciously aware of holding onto back in Fandom. He didn't know if it was the particular cleaner they used here, or some degree of humidity in the air, or maybe just the spices that Herrera always insisted they add to whatever it was they were cooking, the whole place just smelled like home.
Warren was working the reception desk, and his eyes lit up when he saw him, enough that Vic, who was perched on the edge facing away from the door, spun around.
"Oh, hello there, sir," she said, failing to hold back her smile. "Can we help you with something?"
"Oh yeah," Travis said. "I just thought I'd stop by because my, uh, my . . . fire alarm isn't . . . working — I'm not good at this!"
Warren chuckled as Vic launched herself off the desk and flung her arms around Travis.
"You're heeeeere! I thought you weren't coming home until next week!"
"I wasn't," Travis agreed. "But I wanted to surprise you."
"Mission accomplished," Warren said, coming around the desk and offering his hand for a firm, friendly clasp that likely would have been a hug if Vic weren't already firmly wrapped around Travis. "But, uh, thank you for not making us pick you up at the airport."
Travis forced a small laugh, unwilling to mention that he'd had the portal drop him off in the alley down the street, just so he could come here as quickly as possible. "Hey, what are friends for? Besides, I was hoping maybe I'd manage to catch a glimpse of Vic's mystery man. . . ."
"Ah yes, Running Guy," Warren said.
"He's not a mystery guy!" Vic protested.
"You literally call him 'Running Guy'," Travis pointed out, pulling reluctantly away from Vic as more of the A-shift noticed his arrival and started flooding into the lobby. There were hugs and greetings all around and everyone was talking at once, trying to catch each other up with months' worth of gossip and news.
"Hang on, hang on," Travis said. "You guys rescued Rainbow Trout? The Rainbow Trout? And Izzy Packing? You rescued drag queens and I missed it?"
"Miller can make introductions," Gibson said. "Izzy slipped him her number."
It felt so good to finally be home.
"So," Vic said, all but sitting in Travis's lap in the station's lounge as they pretended to watch a cheesy hospital drama. "You've got a whole week. You going to go see your parents?"
Travis sighed. "Maybe. I don't know. I want to see Mom, but — apparently Dad's spending all his time golfing?"
"That sounds . . . like an old white guy to me, yeah," Vic said, giving him some side-eye.
"Okay, yes, fair," Travis allowed. "But — he's not golfing, Vic. He's not golfing!"
". . . Okay, now you're yelling," Vic said. "You did not come all the way across the country a week early to yell at me about your dad's hobbies."
"I didn't!" Travis agreed. At a yell. Then forced himself to lower his voice. "I didn't, but." He groaned, and held up his phone. His father's profile was right there, still on Grindr. With new photos. "He's not golfing."
Vic's eyes flicked from the phone to Travis's face, wide and round as the golf balls Travis's father was most assuredly not playing with. "Ohhh. Right. Not golf."
Travis shut the phone's screen off and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Honestly, I don't know what makes me more mad. The closeted gay sex or the cheating on my mom. Or the really awful pick up lines on that profile."
Vic's mouth was doing that thing where she tried very very hard not to laugh. "Do you . . . you think your mom knows?"
"That my dad's cruising for guys online and calling it golfing? I . . . dear God, I hope not."
"Are you gonna tell her?"
"Why would I tell her?"
Vic shrugged. "If my husband were screwing around, I would want to know."
Travis stared unseeingly at the television and tried to picture that. "'Hey, Mom, how you doing?'" He made as how of sniffing, like she was making her spicy tofu. "'Smells good in here. Uh, quick FYI. Dad's been secretly playing with penises outside of your marriage, and —' oh, my God, why would I say 'playing with penises' in referencing my father?!"
Vic shook her head, still trying not to smile. "I . . . I don't know why you would ever say that."
The alarm chose that moment to start to blare, and Vic and Travis both hopped up immediately, Travis making it all the way to the door before he remembered he didn't work here anymore.
He was on vacation. From a station that almost never got any alarms at all.
How was this his life?
Life at Station 19 was never quiet, even when all you thought you were doing was hanging out with Warren at the reception desk while everyone else was out on a call. An extremely pregnant, extremely belligerent woman came in, screaming bible verses and throwing everything she could get her hands on, especially at the two men who were trying to help her birth her kid. When Travis took a phone to the face he decided it'd be a good plan to just back off and let the former surgeon handle the woman while he tried to stop his nose from bleeding and make sure it wasn't broken.
And then, oh good, the baby daddy showed up, screaming curses at the bible verses lady, and Travis found himself trying to talk the man down while his girlfriend gave birth literally in the middle of the reception area, and Travis found himself actually missing how quiet Fandom was.
No one ever screamed at you about God's will while getting all sorts of bodily fluids all over the floor at the station in Fandom.
It did get him thinking, though. About parents. And church. Judgement and religion and forgiveness.
And how much a nose could hurt without actually being broken.
Vic and the others got back in time to find Travis trying to clean up his face, once the lovely little family was off being cared for and probably sent to jail.
"I see you guys had fun while we were out," she said, reaching out to poke at his nose. Travis dodged her.
"Yeah, well. I know this is a dangerous town to be a firefighter in, but getting beat up by a pregnant Christian woman on my vacation is not something I expected."
Vic laughed. "They sound like a charming couple."
Travis snorted, and immediately regretted it. "They'll be forgiven, though. Right?" He glanced back at her, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, then went back to cleaning his nose. "They'll go to church and confess their sins. You know, they . . . they beat each other, they torture each other, they . . . they're cruel and they're violent. They drink while they're pregnant. They do drugs, they lie, they cheat and they steal and they abuse their kids." He sniffed carefully, trying to clear the blood from his nostrils. Blamed that for why his eyes were stinging. "And they're just . . . forgiven."
He looked back again. Vic wasn't trying not to smile anymore. She was just watching him, a sad look on her face.
He couldn't look at her looking at him like that.
"But if I went to church," he said, turning back to the mirror. "And I talked about the deep love that I have for my husband and the profound ways that he changed me and my life and my heart . . . . If I, uh. If I admit all that and then I don't repent?" Repent. For love. What a stupid fucking system. His throat went tight and his face ached in a way that had very little to do with his not-quite-broken nose. "Well, I'm not going to heaven, right?"
Vic said nothing. Just stood and listened.
"I get to go to hell," Travis said. Staring himself down in the mirror. "I get to go to hell for who and how I love."
He stood upright, swallowing against the lump in his throat.
"That's what my dad's up against. That's what he's buying into."
It explained so much. And Travis hated how it complicated his anger at his father. How much it made him want to wrap his dad up in his arms and tell him all the things he wished his dad had told him, all those years ago.
Shit. He was going to have to go talk to his dad.
"Dad!"
Paul Montgomery was outside when Travis pulled up, taking the family's little dog out for a walk. He turned and offered his son a little half-smile.
"Travis." He frowned and nodded to Travis's nose. "Well, that looks painful. You okay?"
"Yeah, I — I'll live."
This was what they did. They had their little surface level conversations, their token concerns. Never digging any deeper for fear of treading on Paul's shame.
"Your mom's inside," Paul said, not coming any closer. He looked down at the dog, tugging it along, getting ready to walk away already.
"Dad." Travis sighed. How could he say this that his dad would actually hear? "'There is neither Jew nor Greek,'" he quoted slowly, leaning into his old recitation skills. "'There is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female, for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.' Galatians, 3:28."
Paul frowned, clearly not understanding what Travis was trying to say. Even using his own language.
"I saw your profile, Dad." He stepped closer, watched his father shift away from him. Watched his father's expression shut down. "I know."
"I, uh. . . ." Paul chuckled uncomfortably. "I don't know —"
"Yeah." Travis cut him off. He didn't know what he'd expected. For his dad to fall down, start confessing his "sins"? "Actually, I'm . . . too tired to have this conversation today." He stepped back a bit, hesitating. Like he thought his dad might actually try to come to him, for once. "I'm just gonna get some spicy tofu," he said finally, when Paul didn't move.
And Travis turned and walked away.
[Welcome to part one my Thanksgiving speed-run through a very abbreviated Station 19 season 4! Adapted from 4x04, "Don't Look Back in Anger". NFB, NFI, OOC welcome.]
Warren was working the reception desk, and his eyes lit up when he saw him, enough that Vic, who was perched on the edge facing away from the door, spun around.
"Oh, hello there, sir," she said, failing to hold back her smile. "Can we help you with something?"
"Oh yeah," Travis said. "I just thought I'd stop by because my, uh, my . . . fire alarm isn't . . . working — I'm not good at this!"
Warren chuckled as Vic launched herself off the desk and flung her arms around Travis.
"You're heeeeere! I thought you weren't coming home until next week!"
"I wasn't," Travis agreed. "But I wanted to surprise you."
"Mission accomplished," Warren said, coming around the desk and offering his hand for a firm, friendly clasp that likely would have been a hug if Vic weren't already firmly wrapped around Travis. "But, uh, thank you for not making us pick you up at the airport."
Travis forced a small laugh, unwilling to mention that he'd had the portal drop him off in the alley down the street, just so he could come here as quickly as possible. "Hey, what are friends for? Besides, I was hoping maybe I'd manage to catch a glimpse of Vic's mystery man. . . ."
"Ah yes, Running Guy," Warren said.
"He's not a mystery guy!" Vic protested.
"You literally call him 'Running Guy'," Travis pointed out, pulling reluctantly away from Vic as more of the A-shift noticed his arrival and started flooding into the lobby. There were hugs and greetings all around and everyone was talking at once, trying to catch each other up with months' worth of gossip and news.
"Hang on, hang on," Travis said. "You guys rescued Rainbow Trout? The Rainbow Trout? And Izzy Packing? You rescued drag queens and I missed it?"
"Miller can make introductions," Gibson said. "Izzy slipped him her number."
It felt so good to finally be home.
"So," Vic said, all but sitting in Travis's lap in the station's lounge as they pretended to watch a cheesy hospital drama. "You've got a whole week. You going to go see your parents?"
Travis sighed. "Maybe. I don't know. I want to see Mom, but — apparently Dad's spending all his time golfing?"
"That sounds . . . like an old white guy to me, yeah," Vic said, giving him some side-eye.
"Okay, yes, fair," Travis allowed. "But — he's not golfing, Vic. He's not golfing!"
". . . Okay, now you're yelling," Vic said. "You did not come all the way across the country a week early to yell at me about your dad's hobbies."
"I didn't!" Travis agreed. At a yell. Then forced himself to lower his voice. "I didn't, but." He groaned, and held up his phone. His father's profile was right there, still on Grindr. With new photos. "He's not golfing."
Vic's eyes flicked from the phone to Travis's face, wide and round as the golf balls Travis's father was most assuredly not playing with. "Ohhh. Right. Not golf."
Travis shut the phone's screen off and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Honestly, I don't know what makes me more mad. The closeted gay sex or the cheating on my mom. Or the really awful pick up lines on that profile."
Vic's mouth was doing that thing where she tried very very hard not to laugh. "Do you . . . you think your mom knows?"
"That my dad's cruising for guys online and calling it golfing? I . . . dear God, I hope not."
"Are you gonna tell her?"
"Why would I tell her?"
Vic shrugged. "If my husband were screwing around, I would want to know."
Travis stared unseeingly at the television and tried to picture that. "'Hey, Mom, how you doing?'" He made as how of sniffing, like she was making her spicy tofu. "'Smells good in here. Uh, quick FYI. Dad's been secretly playing with penises outside of your marriage, and —' oh, my God, why would I say 'playing with penises' in referencing my father?!"
Vic shook her head, still trying not to smile. "I . . . I don't know why you would ever say that."
The alarm chose that moment to start to blare, and Vic and Travis both hopped up immediately, Travis making it all the way to the door before he remembered he didn't work here anymore.
He was on vacation. From a station that almost never got any alarms at all.
How was this his life?
Life at Station 19 was never quiet, even when all you thought you were doing was hanging out with Warren at the reception desk while everyone else was out on a call. An extremely pregnant, extremely belligerent woman came in, screaming bible verses and throwing everything she could get her hands on, especially at the two men who were trying to help her birth her kid. When Travis took a phone to the face he decided it'd be a good plan to just back off and let the former surgeon handle the woman while he tried to stop his nose from bleeding and make sure it wasn't broken.
And then, oh good, the baby daddy showed up, screaming curses at the bible verses lady, and Travis found himself trying to talk the man down while his girlfriend gave birth literally in the middle of the reception area, and Travis found himself actually missing how quiet Fandom was.
No one ever screamed at you about God's will while getting all sorts of bodily fluids all over the floor at the station in Fandom.
It did get him thinking, though. About parents. And church. Judgement and religion and forgiveness.
And how much a nose could hurt without actually being broken.
Vic and the others got back in time to find Travis trying to clean up his face, once the lovely little family was off being cared for and probably sent to jail.
"I see you guys had fun while we were out," she said, reaching out to poke at his nose. Travis dodged her.
"Yeah, well. I know this is a dangerous town to be a firefighter in, but getting beat up by a pregnant Christian woman on my vacation is not something I expected."
Vic laughed. "They sound like a charming couple."
Travis snorted, and immediately regretted it. "They'll be forgiven, though. Right?" He glanced back at her, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, then went back to cleaning his nose. "They'll go to church and confess their sins. You know, they . . . they beat each other, they torture each other, they . . . they're cruel and they're violent. They drink while they're pregnant. They do drugs, they lie, they cheat and they steal and they abuse their kids." He sniffed carefully, trying to clear the blood from his nostrils. Blamed that for why his eyes were stinging. "And they're just . . . forgiven."
He looked back again. Vic wasn't trying not to smile anymore. She was just watching him, a sad look on her face.
He couldn't look at her looking at him like that.
"But if I went to church," he said, turning back to the mirror. "And I talked about the deep love that I have for my husband and the profound ways that he changed me and my life and my heart . . . . If I, uh. If I admit all that and then I don't repent?" Repent. For love. What a stupid fucking system. His throat went tight and his face ached in a way that had very little to do with his not-quite-broken nose. "Well, I'm not going to heaven, right?"
Vic said nothing. Just stood and listened.
"I get to go to hell," Travis said. Staring himself down in the mirror. "I get to go to hell for who and how I love."
He stood upright, swallowing against the lump in his throat.
"That's what my dad's up against. That's what he's buying into."
It explained so much. And Travis hated how it complicated his anger at his father. How much it made him want to wrap his dad up in his arms and tell him all the things he wished his dad had told him, all those years ago.
Shit. He was going to have to go talk to his dad.
"Dad!"
Paul Montgomery was outside when Travis pulled up, taking the family's little dog out for a walk. He turned and offered his son a little half-smile.
"Travis." He frowned and nodded to Travis's nose. "Well, that looks painful. You okay?"
"Yeah, I — I'll live."
This was what they did. They had their little surface level conversations, their token concerns. Never digging any deeper for fear of treading on Paul's shame.
"Your mom's inside," Paul said, not coming any closer. He looked down at the dog, tugging it along, getting ready to walk away already.
"Dad." Travis sighed. How could he say this that his dad would actually hear? "'There is neither Jew nor Greek,'" he quoted slowly, leaning into his old recitation skills. "'There is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female, for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.' Galatians, 3:28."
Paul frowned, clearly not understanding what Travis was trying to say. Even using his own language.
"I saw your profile, Dad." He stepped closer, watched his father shift away from him. Watched his father's expression shut down. "I know."
"I, uh. . . ." Paul chuckled uncomfortably. "I don't know —"
"Yeah." Travis cut him off. He didn't know what he'd expected. For his dad to fall down, start confessing his "sins"? "Actually, I'm . . . too tired to have this conversation today." He stepped back a bit, hesitating. Like he thought his dad might actually try to come to him, for once. "I'm just gonna get some spicy tofu," he said finally, when Paul didn't move.
And Travis turned and walked away.
[Welcome to part one my Thanksgiving speed-run through a very abbreviated Station 19 season 4! Adapted from 4x04, "Don't Look Back in Anger". NFB, NFI, OOC welcome.]