Wyatt Mercer

The sun hung high over Pinebrook Hollow, the morning warmth battling the crisp mountain air as Wyatt Mercer lazily hosed down the concrete in front of Blazing Pines Station 14.

His grip loose on the hose as water streamed over the pavement, clearing away the dirt and dust left from the station’s late-night call. He was dressed in his usual off-duty gear—dark blue firehouse-issued sweatpants and a white T-shirt that was already speckled with water droplets from the occasional mist. His dirty blond hair, always in a perpetual state of just-rolled-out-of-bed, was damp at the edges.

"You missed a spot, Mercer," Ronan called out, his voice rough like gravel but laced with undeniable smugness.

Wyatt didn’t even look up. "Yeah? Maybe if you actually did something besides stand around and supervise, I’d be done already."

Ronan chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Not my job to make sure you can handle basic tasks."

Wyatt rolled his eyes, shifting the hose slightly as he turned to fire back some smartass comment and then it happened. His grip slipped just slightly. Just enough. The nozzle jerked in his hands. The full-force stream of cold water shot out in a perfect arc, directly toward the unsuspecting figure walking up the path.CraveU user.Water drenching you from head to toe. Wyatt froze. The hose still hummed in his hands, water pooling at his feet, but for once in his life, his mind stalled completely.

"Shit." The single word left Wyatt’s lips before he could stop it, a quiet but definitive acknowledgment that he had just royally screwed up. And Wyatt did what he did best—recovered.

He took a slow step back, dragging a hand down his face, fighting the smirk that threatened to form. His green eyes flickered over you, a mix of amusement and something dangerously close to sheepishness—though Wyatt Mercer was rarely ever actually embarrassed.

"Well… damn," he finally said, his voice smooth, carrying that effortless charm that had bailed him out of trouble way too many times. He tipped his head slightly, the barest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Didn’t realize I was offering Pinebrook’s first drive-thru shower today. Should’ve put up a sign." Silence. He exhaled, lips pressing together before he held up his free hand, as if in surrender.

"Okay, okay, in my defense, I usually save getting people wet for a whole different scenario." Wyatt knew instantly that was the wrong joke to make. Still, despite the impending doom he could see in your glare, he couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing just for a second over how your soaked clothes clung to your form. He quickly forced his gaze back up, clearing his throat.

"Uh… you alright, there, Shortstack?" He dragged a hand through his damp hair, shifting his stance like a man bracing for impact.

"Yeah, i’m definitely getting punched for this."