Reaf

"You know," you teased, "most people are excited when their kids come home from college."

"I am excited." "You look like you're preparing for a hostage negotiation." Danny sighed. "I just want today to go well." "It will."

"They've met you."

"They like me."

"They love you."

You smiled. "They're going to love Joey too."

Danny looked toward the living room.

Your four-year-old son was sitting on the rug, carefully lining up dinosaur figurines in a perfectly straight row.

"I know they will," Danny admitted. "I'm just..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...hoping Joey loves them back."

Ever since Joey had met the Reagan family a month ago, he'd asked about them constantly.

"Is Grandpa Frank working today?"

"When can I colour with Aunt Erin again?"

"Does Great-Grandpa Henry still fight pirates?"

Danny had laughed until he'd cried at that one. But there were two people Joey hadn't met yet. Jack and Sean. Danny's boys. Away at college. Coming home for the weekend. "Danny?" "Hm?"

"What if they don't like dinosaurs?" Danny looked horrified. "What?" Joey looked up from Rex. "What if they don't?" Danny immediately knelt beside him. "They're going to love dinosaurs." "They are?"

"Oh, absolutely." "You promise?" "I promise." The doorbell rang.

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Danny froze. "They're here." You smiled. "Go answer the door." "I am." "...You're still standing here." "I know."

You laughed before giving him a gentle shove toward the front door.

The moment Danny opened it—"Dad!" Sean stepped inside first, immediately pulling Danny into a hug. "You got old." Danny snorted. "I saw you three months ago." "Exactly."

Jack followed with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Hey, Dad." Danny hugged him too. "It's good to have you boys home."

"You've been texting us every other day asking if we packed." "I was making sure." Sean grinned. "You've gone full dad." "I've always been full dad."

You stepped into the hallway. Sean smiled immediately. "Hey! There she is." He hugged you warmly. "It's so good to see you." "You too."

Jack smiled just as warmly. "You look happy." You glanced over at Danny. "I am." Danny's ears turned pink. Sean noticed immediately. "Oh no."

"What?" "You're blushing." "I'm not." "You absolutely are." "I'm just warm." Jack laughed. "He's definitely blushing."

A tiny voice echoed from the living room. "...Danny?" Sean stopped. Jack looked toward the sound. "...Was that..." Danny smiled. "Come on."

The two brothers followed Danny into the living room. Joey was still sitting on the floor. His dinosaurs are now arranged into little families.

He looked up. Saw two unfamiliar people. Immediately scooted a little closer to Danny. Not frightened. Just cautious.

Danny crouched beside him. "Hey, buddy." Joey looked up. "Yeah?" "Remember how I told you my boys were coming home today?" Joey nodded. Danny smiled. "These are them."

He looked toward his sons. "Boys...This is Joey."

Jack and Sean immediately remembered every instruction Danny had given them over the phone.

Don't crowd him.

Don't expect a hug.

Give him space.

Let him come to you.

Sean smiled softly. "Hi, Joey." Jack waved. "Nice to finally meet you." Joey looked at both of them for several quiet seconds.

Then— "...You're tall." Sean blinked. "I..." He laughed. "I guess I am." Jack nodded seriously. "He's taller than me."

"I'm literally one inch taller." "Exactly." Joey giggled. Success. Sean noticed the dinosaurs first. "Oh." He pointed toward the rug. "Are those dinosaurs?" Joey nodded proudly. "Mhm."

Sean slowly sat on the floor a few feet away. "My favourite's the T-Rex." Joey gasped. "No way." "It is." Joey picked up Rex. "This is Rex."

Sean looked at the toy with complete seriousness. "It's an honor to meet him." Joey's entire face lit up. Jack wandered over. "Can I guess your favourite dinosaur?" Joey narrowed his eyes. "...Okay." Jack pretended to think.

"Velociraptor."

"No."

"Stegosaurus."

"No."

"Triceratops."

"No."

Jack dramatically gasped. "I've run out of dinosaurs." Joey laughed so hard he nearly fell over. "It's Ankylosaurus!" Jack slapped his forehead. "I should've known!"

Danny stood in the kitchen doorway. Watching. Not saying a word. You slipped your hand into his. "They're doing great." Danny swallowed.

"I know."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Within twenty minutes...

Sean was building block towers. Jack was helping Joey park tiny police cars. Danny hadn't been invited to play. He pretended to be offended. "Oh. I see how it is." Sean looked over. "What?" "You replaced me."

Joey looked up innocently. "...You can play too." Danny immediately brightened. "Oh. Really?" Tiny nod. "Okay." He sat on the rug.

Sean leaned toward Jack. "...He's whipped." "So whipped." Danny heard them. "I can still hear you." "We know."

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A little later...

Sean noticed Joey covering one ear. The house had gotten noisier. Without saying anything... Sean quietly stood. Walked over to the television. Turned the volume down. Then came back. No announcement. No "look what I did." Just... Done.

Joey looked at him. "...Thank you." Sean smiled. "No problem, buddy." Danny caught Sean's eye. Gave him a grateful nod. Sean smiled back.

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Lunch turned into an adventure.

Danny had made grilled cheese. Cut into dinosaur shapes. Jack stared. "Dad." "What?" "You bought dinosaur cookie cutters." "So?" "You've never done that for us."

Danny looked unapologetic. "You guys were teenagers." Sean folded his arms dramatically. "I suddenly feel unloved." Danny rolled his eyes. "You survived." "We wanted dinosaur sandwiches!" "No, you didn't." "We do now."

Joey quietly pushed one of his dinosaur sandwiches onto Sean's plate. "You can have one." Sean looked surprised. "Really?" Tiny nod. Sean smiled. "Thanks, buddy."

Jack immediately held out his own plate. "I'd also like to file a request." Joey laughed. "You get a little one." "I accept these terms."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

After lunch...

Jack found an old soccer ball in the backyard. "You ever kicked one of these?" Joey shook his head. "No." "Wanna try?" Joey looked at Danny. Danny smiled. "Only if you want." "I want."

Jack gently rolled the ball toward him. Joey stopped it with both hands instead of his foot. Jack grinned. "That's one way." Joey giggled. "You do it."

Jack slowly demonstrated. No pressure. No corrections. Just... Showing.

A few tries later... Joey managed a tiny kick. The ball rolled about three feet. Sean threw both arms into the air. "He scores!" Jack pretended to collapse dramatically. "I've never seen such athleticism!"

Joey burst into laughter. Danny couldn't remember the last time he'd heard him laugh this much in one day.

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By late afternoon...

Joey was getting sleepy. He wandered over to the porch swing where Danny was sitting. Without a word... He climbed into Danny's lap. Danny wrapped the little blanket around him.

Sean watched quietly. Jack smiled. "He really loves you." Danny looked down at Joey, already rubbing sleepy circles against his shirt. "I really love him."

There wasn't even a second's hesitation. Jack noticed. "So..." Danny looked up. "So." Sean leaned against the porch railing. "You know Mom would've adored him."

Silence settled over the porch. Danny smiled sadly. "I think so too." Joey sleepily reached one little hand toward Sean. Sean blinked. "...Me?" Joey nodded.

Sean carefully scooted closer. Joey rested his tiny hand against Sean's arm. "...You're nice." Sean's heart melted instantly. "Thanks, buddy." Then Joey looked toward Jack.

"...You're funny." Jack clutched his chest dramatically. "Did you hear that?" Sean laughed. "I did." "I've peaked."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

As the sun began to set, Joey had fallen asleep against Danny's chest, Rex tucked beneath his chin.

The porch was quiet. The only sounds were birds and the gentle creak of the swing. Sean finally broke the silence. "So..." Danny looked over. "What?"

Sean smiled. "You know he's already our little brother, right?" Danny blinked. "What?" Jack nodded. "You didn't think we'd let him leave after one weekend, did you?"

Danny laughed softly. "I was hoping." Sean reached over and gently adjusted the blanket around Joey's shoulders. "He doesn't have to wonder whether we want him around."

Jack smiled warmly. "He'll always have two big brothers." Danny looked down at the sleeping little boy in his arms. Then back at his sons. His sons. Who had opened their hearts without hesitation.

Who had seen Joey—not as someone they had to accommodate, but simply as a little boy who loved dinosaurs, police cars, and people who made him feel safe.

His voice came out rough with emotion. "I'm really proud of you two." Sean grinned. "We learned from the best." Jack nodded. "You taught us that family isn't just about who you're born with."

Danny felt his eyes sting. He looked at you across the porch. You smiled through tears of your own. Your little boy had walked into Danny's life with a backpack, a stuffed dinosaur, and a shy smile.

Now, only a few weeks later, he had a grandfather, a great-grandfather, two aunts, an uncle, and two big brothers who were already arguing over whose apartment he'd get to visit first when he was older.

For the first time in a very long time, Joey's world wasn't just safe.

The Beverly Hills elite weren't exactly expecting SWAT. Which made you and Deacon the perfect undercover pair. "You've got to be kidding." Hondo grinned. "Nope." He tossed Deacon a velvet invitation before looking at you. "Congratulations. You're engaged."

Your eyebrows nearly disappeared into your hairline. "...Excuse me?" Tan burst into laughter. "It's the cover." Chris leaned against the table with crossed arms. "Rich investors. Been together three years. Looking to donate to the charity auction." Street immediately smirked. "Oh this is gonna be fun."

You shot him a glare. "I'm literally twenty." "And?" Luca laughed. "You look twenty-five in a dress." You blinked. "...I don't know whether to take that as a compliment."

💎💎💎💎

The mansion looked like something straight out of a movie. Crystal chandeliers. Live orchestra. Champagne fountains. People wearing watches worth more than your yearly salary. You adjusted the emerald-green evening gown while staring at yourself in the mirror. It hugged your figure just enough to feel dangerous.

"Ready?" You turned. And promptly forgot how breathing worked. Deacon stood in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. Bow tie. Polished shoes. Hair slicked back. He looked… Illegal. He caught you staring. "What?" "...Nothing." "You hesitated."

"I absolutely did not." "You absolutely did." You rolled your eyes dramatically. "I was simply appreciating that you clean up well." A tiny smile tugged at his lips. "So do you."

Heat flooded your cheeks. "...Thanks."

💎💎💎💎

The first problem came almost immediately. The host greeted you both with a smile. "There they are!" Before you could react— An arm wrapped around your waist. Warm. Solid. Comfortable. Deacon.

He leaned down just enough to whisper, "Play along." Your heart immediately forgot how to function. "Oh, believe me..." You whispered back. "I'm trying."

For two hours… You danced. Laughed. Held hands. Pretended to know each other's favorite wines. Pretended you had met in Florence. Pretended you'd adopted a golden retriever named Winston. Pretended your wedding venue was already booked. The lies came easier than expected.

Mostly because… You were having fun. Too much fun.

Then the suspect appeared. The billionaire collector SWAT had been tracking. He glanced at you. Then at Deacon. "You two are newly engaged?" Your pulse skipped. Deacon didn't even blink. "I finally convinced her."

The man laughed. "What took so long?" Without missing a beat— Deacon looked directly at you. "I was waiting until I knew she wasn't going anywhere." Your stomach flipped. That… Wasn't in the briefing.

You looked at him. His expression never changed. Professional. Calm. Completely committed to the cover.

Still...Your heart refused to believe it was entirely fake.

💎💎💎💎

The mission fell apart twenty minutes later. Gunshots. Guests screaming. The suspect bolted through the gardens.

"LAPD SWAT!"

Everything happened at once. You kicked off your heels. Deacon drew his pistol. Tan and Street crashed through the hedges from the opposite side.

Within sixty seconds… The suspect was in cuffs. 

Mission complete.

💎💎💎💎

Later… Long after statements were finished… Long after the ballroom emptied… You stood alone on one of the mansion balconies. The city lights glittered below.

"You okay?" Deacon stepped beside you. "Yeah." Silence settled between you. Then you laughed. "What?" "I can't believe Winston doesn't exist." He chuckled. "He was a good dog." "The best."

Another quiet moment. Then… "I liked pretending." The words escaped before you could stop them. "...What?" You stared out at the skyline. "The cover." Your voice softened. "It felt..."

Real.

You immediately regretted saying it. "You don't have to—" "I liked it too." You looked at him. His eyes never left yours. "I know it's inappropriate." He spoke carefully. "And complicated." "Very."

"And there's an age difference." "There is." "But every time we worked together..." He smiled. "I kept finding reasons to choose you as my partner." Your heart nearly exploded.

"...Seriously?" "You notice everything." He laughed quietly. "I was hoping eventually you'd notice me." You stepped closer. "So..."

He mirrored the movement. "So."

"We're technically not engaged anymore." "I checked." "The paperwork cleared?" He grinned. "Pretty sure." You laughed. 

"I guess..." Your voice became barely above a whisper. "You'll have to ask me for real."

He stared at you for one long second. Then reached into his tuxedo pocket. Your eyes widened. "No way." He pulled out… A cheap plastic ring from the charity auction prize bags. "I was saving this."

You laughed so hard you nearly doubled over. "You are not proposing with a toy ring." "I absolutely am." He knelt anyway. "Will you go on a real date with me?" You covered your face, still laughing. "That was so unbelievably cheesy." "I've been told." 

You slipped the plastic ring onto your finger. "Then yes." He stood. "So..."  "So?" "Our first real date." "No fake fiancé cover?"  "Nope." "No billionaires?" "I hope not." "No gunfire?" "Definitely not." You smiled. "I'd like that." "So would I." For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, gently—giving you every chance to pull away—Deacon cupped your cheek. "You sure?" Instead of answering… You rose onto your toes. And kissed him. Soft. Sweet. The kind of kiss that promised there would be many more once they weren't pretending anymore.

That was ironic, considering he'd spent most of his life creating them. Yet the second Lisbon said— "Director wants us to bring in an outside consultant."

He frowned. "I already consult." Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Not for you." Cho looked up from his paperwork. "Apparently, she's an expert in carnival operations."

Patrick's smile faltered. "...Carnivals?" Van Pelt nodded. "The victims all worked at travelling fairs over the last fifteen years." Rigsby added, "They think the killer is targeting former performers."

Patrick's fingers stopped spinning around his teacup. Carnivals. Circuses. Travelling families. He hadn't heard those words spoken professionally in years.

Lisbon continued reading. "She's worked undercover in circuses before. Used to be born into one herself."

Patrick wasn't listening anymore. He knew maybe three dozen people who fit that description. Then Lisbon read the name.

"Y/N L/N."

Everything inside him froze...No. It couldn't be. Not after all these years. "You okay?" Cho asked. Patrick smiled. "I'm wonderful." Lie. An obvious one. Lisbon caught it immediately. "You know her."

"I knew lots of performers." "You know her." Patrick stared out the office window. Quietly... "Yes."

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

Twenty minutes later...The elevator doors opened. Footsteps echoed across the bullpen. Van Pelt looked first. "Oh." Rigsby looked next. "...Wow." Even Cho raised an eyebrow.

Patrick didn't turn around immediately. Because suddenly... He was twenty years old again. Back under striped tents. Learning card tricks beside a girl who laughed louder than anyone else. Sneaking caramel apples. Practicing sleight of hand until sunrise.

Hearing—"If you cheat, Patrick Jane, I'm telling your father." "I don't cheat." "You absolutely cheat." "I improvise."

Lisbon cleared her throat. "Jane." He turned. And forgot how breathing worked. Y/N hadn't changed. Well...She had. She looked older. More confident. More elegant. But her eyes... Still carried that spark. Like she knew every secret in the room before anyone spoke.

She smiled politely. "Patrick." His voice disappeared. "...Hello." The bullpen suddenly became very interested.

Van Pelt whispered, "They know each other." Cho answered without looking up. "Obviously."

Y/N extended her hand. "So...it's been a while." Patrick looked at her hand. Then at her face. "...About twenty years." "Twenty-two." "You counted?" She smiled. "No." Lie.

He noticed. She knew he noticed. Neither said anything. Lisbon sighed internally. Oh great. History.

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

In the conference room, files covered the table. Y/N leaned over photographs. "Victim one was a knife thrower's assistant." She pointed. "Victim two. Ticket seller." She nodded. "But before that?" Cho answered. "Acrobat." She smiled slightly.

"So whoever's doing this isn't targeting jobs." Patrick finally spoke. "They're targeting families." She looked at him. Really looked. Same blue eyes. Same impossible observations. Same messy hair. Only... Sadder. Much sadder.

"You figured that out already." Patrick shrugged. "So did you." A tiny smile. "...Still show-off." "You always liked that." Silence. Lisbon blinked. Wait. Liked?

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

Over the next two days... The tension became impossible to ignore. Patrick always somehow appeared beside her. Coffee? Already waiting. Crime scene? Standing next to her. Interview? Sharing observations.

Cho eventually muttered, "He's hovering." Rigsby nodded. "A lot." Van Pelt smiled. "I think it's cute." Cho deadpanned, "I think it's obvious."

They interviewed former performers. Old clowns. Animal trainers. Jugglers. Fire breathers. Each time... Patrick and Y/N slipped effortlessly into old rhythms.

Finishing each other's questions. Predicting reactions. Reading lies. At one point—Patrick flipped a coin. Without looking— Y/N caught it behind her back. Heads. Of course.

Rigsby stared. "Did...did you guys rehearse life?"

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

That evening...They ended up alone outside the motel. The fair lights glowed in the distance. Y/N leaned against the railing. "You still drink too much tea."

"You still pretend coffee tastes good." She laughed. God... He'd missed that laugh. More than he'd ever admitted. "You disappeared." She said it gently.

Not accusing. Just...True. Patrick nodded. "I married Angela." "I know." "I loved her." "I know." Silence.

She looked toward the Ferris wheel. "I was happy for you." Lie. Patrick heard it instantly. "...No." She sighed. "I wanted to be."

He looked at her. "You loved me." Not a question. She smiled sadly. "I was seventeen." "You loved me." "I got over it." Lie. Again.

He hated that he could still tell. "You never told me." "You chose someone else." "I didn't know." "You would've." He frowned. "I would've what?"

She finally looked at him. "If you'd known..." Long pause. "...You still would've picked Angela."

He couldn't answer. Because back then... She was right. "I don't regret loving my wife." "I never asked you to."

"I regret leaving without saying goodbye." That hit harder than either expected. Y/N swallowed. "You left a note." Patrick looked embarrassed. "It was a terrible note." "It really was." She laughed.

Then looked away before he saw the tears. Too late. He saw.

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

The case broke wide open the next day. The killer was a former illusionist. Someone convinced him that the carnival families had abandoned him.

He took revenge on everyone who'd "left."

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

During the confrontation, he grabbed Lisbon. Gun raised. Everyone froze. Except Y/N. Because she'd seen faster hands.

She slipped behind him silently. Used an old circus distraction— Three tossed playing cards. His eyes followed. Patrick moved. Cho tackled him. Case over.

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

Back at the office— Lisbon handed Y/N a coffee. "You saved my life." Y/N smiled. "I distracted him."

"No," Lisbon replied. "You trusted Patrick." She looked over. Patrick was already looking back.

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

That evening... He found her packing. "So." "So." "You heading out?" "My train leaves tomorrow." He hated those words. "I've been thinking." "Dangerous." "It usually is."

He stepped closer. "You said you buried your feelings." She looked away. "I did." "I think mine are just showing up." She laughed softly. "Patrick..." "I'm serious." "I know." "I don't know what this is." "You've spent years grieving."

"I have." "So don't confuse comfort with love." "I'm not." "How do you know?" He smiled. "Because you make me nervous." She blinked. "You never made me nervous before." "Exactly."

He reached into his pocket. Pulled out an old playing card. Queen of Hearts. Folded. Worn. "I've carried this for twenty years." She stared. "...No." "You gave it to me." She unfolded it. Tiny handwriting.

"Don't forget where you learned your first trick."

She'd forgotten she'd written it. He hadn't. "You kept this?" "Always." "Why?" He smiled sadly. "Maybe because somewhere...I wasn't ready to let every part of that life disappear."

She looked up. His eyes were different now. No performance. No tricks. Just Patrick. "You deserve someone who chooses you." He whispered. "I know." "I'd like the chance to."

Silence. Long. Painfully long. Finally— She stepped closer. "You don't get to rush this." "I know." "You broke my heart once." "I know." "I'm not seventeen anymore." "I know." "And if this happens..." She poked his chest. "...You earn every single step."

Patrick smiled wider than Y/N had ever seen. "I've always liked impossible jobs." She rolled her eyes. "There he is." "The charming mentalist?" "The annoying circus boy." He grinned. "I've missed you."

Her expression softened. "I missed you too." The first kiss wasn't dramatic. No rain. No music. No fireworks. Just...Two people who'd spent twenty years walking around the same feeling.

Patrick rested his forehead against hers first. Giving her every chance to move away. She didn't. Instead—She closed the distance. Soft. Gentle. Patient. A beginning instead of an ending.

🎟️🎟️🎟️🎟️

The bullpen the following Monday—Patrick walked in carrying two cups of tea. Lisbon noticed first. "Two?" Patrick smiled. "I'm sharing."

Cho looked toward the elevator. Y/N stepped out. Coffee in one hand. Tea in the other. Patrick reached over. Swapped drinks without asking.

She took his coffee. He took her tea. Completely natural. Van Pelt gasped. "They're dating." Rigsby smiled. "I knew it."

Cho looked up exactly once. "Took them long enough."

Lisbon watched Patrick laugh—really laugh—for the first time since she'd known him.

Not the practiced smile. Not the performance. A genuine, carefree laugh that reached his eyes. She smiled to herself.

Maybe some people weren't meant to be each other's first choice. Maybe they were meant to find each other after life had reshuffled the deck.

"Jamie!" Danny's voice echoed through the Reagan house. Jamie looked up from setting forks on the dining room table. "What?" "The music."

Jamie frowned. "...What about it?" "It's too loud." "It isn't even on." Danny paused. "...Good." Jamie sighed. "Danny." "No surprises." "There are literally no surprises." "There could've been."

Frank looked over the top of his newspaper. "Daniel." "What?" "You've rearranged my living room three times." "It flows better." "It flowed perfectly fine before."

Danny ignored him. He walked around the room with laser focus. The antique crystal bowl? Moved to a higher shelf. Decorative candles? Into a cabinet. The noisy grandfather clock? He couldn't move it... but he did make sure nobody planned to wind it.

Henry wandered in with a cup of coffee. "You look like you're planning a presidential visit." Danny barely looked at him. "I'm planning for Joey." Henry smiled. "You really love that little boy."

Danny stopped for just a second. His expression softened. "...Yeah." He smiled to himself. "I really do."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

A basket sat beside the couch. Erin glanced inside.

Colouring books.

Blank paper.

Washable crayons.

Animal stickers.

A stuffed dinosaur.

A weighted lap blanket.

Noise-cancelling headphones.

Three different fidget toys.

Apple juice boxes.

Goldfish crackers.

Fruit snacks.

Erin blinked. "Planning on opening a daycare?" Danny shrugged. "He likes options." Eddie walked in carrying a pie. "Danny..." "What?" "You've colour-coded snacks." "So?" "You made labels." "So?"

"They have little dinosaurs on them." Danny looked offended. "He likes dinosaurs." "I know." "So the dinosaurs stay."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

The doorbell rang. Everything stopped. Danny inhaled. Exhaled. Smoothed his shirt. Ran a hand through his hair.

Jamie smirked. "You've arrested serial killers with less anxiety." Danny shot him a look. "This is different."

He opened the front door. There you were. Warm smile. Pretty dress. Joseph perched beside you, holding his favourite green dinosaur. His little backpack nearly looked bigger than he was. He peeked around your leg. "...Hi."

Danny immediately crouched to Joey's level. "Hey, buddy." Joey smiled. "I brought Rex." "I was hoping you would." He held up his own hand. "Wanna come inside?" Joey looked at you. You nodded encouragingly. Tiny fingers slipped into Danny's hand. Danny's entire face softened.

🦖🦖🦖🦖

The moment they stepped inside... The Reagan family remembered Danny's very specific instructions.

No rushing.

No crowding.

No loud greetings.

No touching unless Joey initiated it.

Frank stood first. Keeping a respectful distance. "Hello, Joseph." Joey looked up. "You can call me Joey." Frank smiled. "I'd be honoured."

Henry tipped an imaginary hat. "Nice to meet you, Joey." Joey looked at his dinosaur. "This is Rex." Henry gasped dramatically. "I've heard a lot about him." Joey's eyes widened. "You have?" "Oh yes. I've heard he's very brave."

Joey looked proudly at Rex. "He is." Jamie crouched down a few feet away. "I like dinosaurs too." Joey looked skeptical. "Really?" "Mhm. My favourite's a Triceratops."

Joey thought about that. "...That's a good choice." Jamie grinned. "I know."

Eddie came around the corner carrying two colouring books. "I wasn't sure which one you'd like." She held them up. "Dinosaurs...or police cars?" Joey gasped. "...Both." Eddie laughed. "I had a feeling."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Within ten minutes...

Joey was sitting cross-legged on the living room rug. Colouring with Eddie. Jamie was building tiny block towers beside him. Henry was pretending Rex was protecting everyone from invisible pirates.

Frank watched from his chair with the smallest smile.

You stood beside Danny. "...This is..." You swallowed. "I don't think I've ever seen people just..." Danny looked at you. "Treat him like a kid?"

Your eyes shimmered. You nodded. Danny gently squeezed your hand. "My family doesn't see anything to fix." "They don't?" "No."

He watched Joey giggle as Erin made dinosaur noises. "They see Joey."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Dinner came together slowly. Nobody rushed him. Nobody insisted he eat everything. Frank quietly slid the mashed potatoes closer. "Only if you want some."

Joey looked at Danny. Danny nodded. "Your choice." "I want potatoes." "Then potatoes it is."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Halfway through dinner... The conversation became louder. Everyone started laughing at one of Henry's stories.

Joey's shoulders tightened. His hands covered his ears. Danny noticed immediately. Without saying a word... He reached into the basket beside his chair.

Placed the headphones next to Joey. Didn't hand them to him. Didn't announce it. Just... Left them there. Joey smiled. Danny smiled back while Joey slipped them on.

The family continued talking normally. Nobody stared. Nobody commented. Nobody made it into a big deal.

Exactly how Joey liked it.

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Later...

Jamie suggested everyone play with toy police cars. Joey immediately lit up. "I have one!" He ran to his backpack. Pulled out a tiny blue NYPD cruiser.

Danny laughed. "You brought your patrol car?" "It catches bad guys." Frank leaned over. "Mind if I help?" Joey considered this. "...Okay."

Within minutes...Frank Reagan...Police Commissioner of New York City...Was lying on the living room rug making siren noises with the boy's toy car.

Jamie blinked. "I don't think I've ever seen Dad on the floor." Henry laughed. "Take a picture." Frank glared. "Don't you dare."

Danny couldn't stop smiling. You noticed. "What?" He looked over. "I dreamed about this." "What?"

He watched Joey happily driving his little police car across Eddie's shoes. "...Him having people."

Your heart melted. "He deserves a big family." Danny nodded. "So do you."

🦖🦖🦖🦖

As the evening wore on...Joey began slowing down. His little yawns became more frequent. He climbed onto the couch beside Danny without saying a word.

Danny lifted the weighted blanket over his lap. "You comfy?" Tiny nod. Rex tucked under one arm. Danny's arm is resting gently around his shoulders. Joey leaned against him instinctively.

Within minutes... He was asleep. The room became noticeably quieter. Frank lowered the television. Henry stopped talking mid-story. Jamie quietly collected the toy cars. Eddie gathered the crayons without making noise.

No one wanted to wake him.

Danny looked down at the sleeping little boy curled against his side. One tiny hand rested against Danny's shirt. Rex was pressed between them. Danny carefully brushed Joey's curls away from his forehead.

"So trusting," he whispered. You smiled softly. "He doesn't fall asleep around many people." Danny looked up. "He doesn't?" You shook your head.

"If he falls asleep somewhere..." You glanced at Joey. "...it's because he feels completely safe."

Danny swallowed. Erin quietly walked over. She looked at Joey for a long moment. Then at you. Then at Danny. "He fits."

You looked at him. "What do you mean?" Frank smiled warmly. "Our family has always had room for more chairs at the table."

She rested a gentle hand on Danny's shoulder. "I think we've just found another." Frank nodded in agreement. "I'd say so."

Jamie smiled. "He's already beaten Danny at colouring." "I let him win," Danny muttered.

"You absolutely did not," Eddie teased.

🦖🦖🦖🦖

A little while later, Joey stirred awake. He blinked sleepily. "...Did I sleep?" Danny chuckled. "Just a little." Joey looked around the room. Everyone smiled back at him. No one made him feel embarrassed. No one joked. No one told him he'd missed anything important.

He simply stretched and climbed into Danny's lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. Danny wrapped an arm around him automatically.

🦖🦖🦖🦖

Eventually, it was time to head home. Danny carried Joey outside because he was still half-asleep. He buckled him carefully into the car seat. Made sure Rex was secure.

Adjusted the blanket around his legs. Double-checked the straps. Then checked them again. You laughed softly. "You know they're fine." "I know." "You've checked three times." "...Maybe four."

You leaned against the car beside him. "I've never seen you this nervous." Danny rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted today to be good." You smiled. "It was perfect."

"No disasters?" "None." "No meltdowns?" "No." "My family didn't overwhelm him?" "They followed every single thing you asked."

Danny let out the breath he'd apparently been holding all day. "Good." From the back seat came a sleepy little voice. "Danny?" Danny leaned toward the open window. "Yeah, buddy?"

Joey rubbed one eye. "...Can we come back next Sunday?" Danny's smile was instant. "I'd really like that." Joey nodded sleepily. "...Me too."

A few seconds passed.

Then, with the complete sincerity only a four-year-old could manage, Joey whispered without even opening his eyes, "...Night, Daddy."

Time seemed to stop. Danny froze, one hand still resting on the car door. Your heart skipped. Neither of you had ever asked Joey to call him that. It had simply come from a place of comfort and trust.

Danny's eyes grew glassy. He blinked hard, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in just enough to kiss the top of Joey's head. "Goodnight, buddy."

Joey smiled in his sleep and hugged Rex tighter. Danny closed the car door with extraordinary care before turning back to you. You wrapped your arms around him.

He held you tightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know I'm not the one who got to be there for his first steps... or his first words."

He looked through the window at Joey. "But if he'll let me..." His throat tightened. "I want to be there for everything else."

You reached up and cupped his cheek. "I think he already decided that."

Back inside the house, Frank watched from the front window as Danny stood beside your car, looking like the happiest man in New York.

Henry joined him with a knowing smile. "So," Henry said quietly, "next Sunday?" Frank chuckled. "I think we'd better buy more dinosaur stickers." Henry laughed. "And maybe some extra chicken nuggets."

From behind them, Jamie called out, "Danny's probably already making a shopping list."

The entire family laughed. Because they all knew it was true.

And without anyone ever having to say it aloud, there was a shared understanding around the Reagan dinner table.

From now on, there would always be a little place set for Joey and you.

You showed up together without meaning to. Left together without planning it. Finished each other’s sentences in the quiet, domestic way that came from knowing someone’s rhythms, not just their highlights. You ran side by side before shift, matching pace without ever discussing it. You volunteered together on your days off, somehow always assigned to the same task, laughing quietly like the world wasn’t heavy on your shoulders every other day of the week.

You got him into matcha—real matcha, whisked properly, none of that sugary nonsense—and he pretended to complain until he didn’t. He got you into the Rams, taught you the roster, explained plays patiently, bought you your first jersey like it wasn’t a big deal even though you still remembered how carefully he’d handed it to you.

Chris knew.

Hondo definitely knew.

The rest of the team just waited for the two of you to catch up.

🍵🍵🍵🍵

You came into HQ one morning balancing multiple coffee carriers, the doors swinging open with your hip.

“I bring the goods!”

A chorus of relief rose up immediately.

You started distributing drinks like you’d done it a hundred times before. “Street. Luca. Tan.”

You stopped in front of Deacon, handing him two cups.

“So,” you said casually, “they had a new matcha with cherry honey cold foam. Thought you might like it. But I also got your usual matcha, just in case.”

His expression softened instantly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

Tan lifted his cup, inspecting it. “Hey, where’s my cold foam and second drink?”

You raised a brow slowly. “Where are my birria tacos you promised me last week? Coffee from me may be free, but cold foam comes at a cost.”

Street grinned. “So how does Deacon pay for all his extras? What extracurricular activities are you guys doing?”

Deacon shook his head. “I’m going to completely ignore what you’re implying.”

Luca took a sip of his drink. “Lower-level seats at the fifty-yard line sounds like payment enough. Saw your Instagram story this weekend. You two looked real cozy.”

“And the matching Jordans,” Street added.

Chris stepped in smoothly. “Or—hear me out—maybe being best friends is enough?”

You pointed at her. “Thank you. Smartest person in the room.”

Tan scoffed. “I’m offended you don’t consider us best friends.”

Deacon tried the new drink, eyes lighting up despite himself. “Okay. Yeah. This is good.” He tipped it toward you. “Here.”

You took a sip, nodding in approval, and handed it back just as Hondo swooped in from behind and stole it.

“All right, let’s see what these lovebirds aren’t sharing.”

One swallow later, his face twisted. “Ugh. This is terrible. What are you guys, rabbits eating grass?”

Deacon reclaimed his cup while you passed Hondo his coffee. “That’ll teach you not to steal.”

Hondo shook his head. “Y’all are nasty. Next thing you’ll tell me you do those juice wellness shots.”

You leaned closer to Deacon, whispering, “Should we tell him we already do those?”

He covered his mouth to hide his smile. “I gotta ease him into it. Don’t want him having a breakdown.”

You grinned. “We’ll leave out the part where we get ice cream after. Let him think we’re super healthy.”

The wink he gave you made your stomach flip.

🍵🍵🍵🍵

The case changed the air.

Her name was Madeline Shaw—sharp suit, confident smile, the kind of woman who knew how to command attention without raising her voice. She inserted herself into the investigation with unnerving ease and made it clear, very quickly, that Deacon was her focal point.

She laughed too loudly at his dry comments. Touched his arm when she spoke. Found reasons to stand just a little too close.

Deacon never encouraged it. He stayed polite, professional, immovable.

Still, it hurt.

You hated that it did. Hated that jealousy crept in even though you hadn’t claimed him—and he hadn’t claimed you.

Madeline asked questions.

“So is he married?” she asked Street with a grin.

“Does he always look this serious?” she asked Luca.

She cornered Tan one afternoon. “What’s his deal? No one’s that devoted to the job without something else going on.”

And then she noticed you.

The way Deacon’s shoulders relaxed around you. The way his eyes tracked you unconsciously. The way the space between you felt occupied even when you weren’t standing together.

She caught you once when Deacon was pulled into a briefing and you were talking with another squad member.

Her smile sharpened. “So,” she said lightly, “does the department allow inter-team relationships?”

Your jaw tightened. “Why wouldn’t they?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

Mission accomplished. Your feathers were thoroughly ruffled.

🍵🍵🍵🍵

The undercover op dropped you into a club—lights low, music pounding, bodies moving.

You and Deacon were supposed to blend in.

Instead, when his hand found your waist and he spun you under his arm, laughter spilling out of you both, it felt dangerously real. Too familiar. Too close to the truth neither of you had spoken.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, moving together like you always did—effortless, in sync, intimate in ways that made your chest ache.

When it ended, the tension didn’t.

Deacon drove you home, the city quiet around you. Conversation drifted easily until the car stopped outside your place and everything slowed.

You turned toward him.

He turned toward you.

The air felt electric.

Then his phone rang. You glanced at the dash.

Madeline Shaw. Something cracked inside you.

You grabbed your bag and opened the door. “You should get that,” you said, forcing lightness into your voice. “Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Y/N—”

You were already out of the car.

🍵🍵🍵🍵

After the case wrapped, you were leaving HQ when you saw them.

Madeline stood close to Deacon in the hallway, her hand resting on his bicep as she spoke. He looked uncomfortable—but all you saw was her touch.

You turned away quickly, heart pounding.

Chris caught it immediately.

“That’s not what it looked like,” she said gently.

You swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t get to be upset.”

Chris stopped you. “You’re allowed to feel things. Even if you’re scared of them.”

🍵🍵🍵🍵

Deacon found you later that night.

“I need to say this,” he said quietly, voice steady but eyes uncertain. “Before I lose the chance.”

You looked at him, heart in your throat.

“I don’t know when it happened,” he continued. “Somewhere between the runs and the hikes and you turning my fridge into a matcha shrine… I fell in love with you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I didn’t say anything because I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid of changing what we had. Afraid of losing you.”

Tears burned. “I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Relief washed over his face before he pulled you into his arms.

When he kissed you this time, there were no interruptions.

She did, however, own seventeen hoodies, exactly zero patience, and a deeply rooted belief that high school was a personal attack.

Luca knew something was wrong the moment she came home, dropped her backpack like it had personally betrayed her, and muttered, “I hate everyone.”

He paused mid-coffee sip. “…Rough day?”

“School,” she said flatly, already heading for her room.

“Okay,” Luca called after her, careful. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

The door shut—not slammed, but closed with intention. The most dangerous kind.

Luca sighed and glanced over at Jim Street, who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching the whole thing unfold with a knowing look.

“She used to marry me when she was mad,” Street said. “Now she just ignores you.”

Luca scowled. “This is your fault. You encouraged her.”

“I gave her juice during a medical emergency,” Street shot back. “If anything, I’m a hero.”

Y/N emerged ten minutes later in different clothes—bigger hoodie, hair pulled back, face locked in the universal expression of don’t talk to me. She grabbed a snack from the fridge, checked her Dexcom out of habit, and headed for the couch.

Luca tried again. “You good, kid?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Street winced. “Oof. That’s a ‘she’s not fine’ fine.”

Y/N glared. “Can you not narrate my emotions, Uncle Jim?”

Luca blinked. “Wait—you’ll talk to him?”

Street grinned. “I have a face people trust.”

“You have a face people punch,” Luca muttered.

✖️✖️✖️✖️

Later that night, Luca retreated to the garage to tinker with something that absolutely did not need fixing. Street found Y/N on the back steps, knees pulled up, phone abandoned beside her.

“Hey,” he said gently, sitting down. “You haven’t glared at me yet. That’s progress.”

She huffed. “Give it time.”

They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “High school is stupid.”

Street nodded immediately. “Correct.”

“And people are stupid.”

“Also correct.”

“And boys—” she stopped herself, groaning and dropping her head back against the step. “Ugh. Never mind.”

Street perked up. “Ah. There it is.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not gonna tell my dad.”

He made a zipping motion over his mouth. “Street code.”

“You just made that up.”

“Still binding.”

She sighed, staring at the yard. “There’s this guy. And he’s not even that great, which makes it worse. He smiled at me and now my brain doesn’t work.”

Street fought a smile. “Classic.”

“And my dad would absolutely lose his mind.”

Street laughed softly. “Yeah… he would.”

She frowned. “Why are you easier to talk to?”

That one caught him off guard.

“…Because I don’t feel like I have to protect you from the world,” he said carefully. “I just wanna help you figure it out.”

She nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

From the garage, Luca chose that exact moment to walk out.

“…Figure what out?”

Street froze.

Y/N groaned. “Why is your timing criminally bad?”

Luca crossed his arms, eyes flicking between them. “You won’t talk to me, but you’ll talk to him?”

Street lifted his hands. “In my defense, she came with evidence and feelings.”

Luca scoffed. “I’m her father.”

“And I’m her uncle,” Street shot back. “Who once almost married her, apparently.”

Y/N snorted despite herself.

Luca’s shoulders relaxed just a little. “Kid. You can tell me stuff.”

She looked up at him, hesitant. “You promise not to freak out?”

“I am physically incapable of promising that,” he admitted. “But I’ll try.”

She took a breath. “I just… like someone. And it’s dumb. And school is a lot. And I didn’t wanna worry you.”

Luca softened instantly. He stepped closer, crouching in front of her like he had when she was five.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You worrying doesn’t protect me. It just makes you carry it alone.”

Her throat tightened. She nodded, leaning into his shoulder.

Street smiled to himself, standing. “I’m gonna go—before this turns into a feelings circle.”

Luca shot him a look. “We’re not done talking.”

Street grinned. “You’re just mad she still likes me.”

Y/N smirked into Luca’s shoulder. “I mean… Uncle Jim did save my life once.”

Luca sighed. “I will never win.”

But he wrapped an arm around her anyway.

Some things changed.

Some things didn’t.

And even now—years later—when things got scary or overwhelming or a little too much…

Not argument loud—well, sometimes—but tonight it was a different kind of chaos. The kind that came with a six-month-old baby boy who had decided that today was absolutely not a day for being put down.

You stood in the kitchen doorway, gently bouncing Joseph Reagan against your shoulder, his tiny fist clutching the collar of your sweater like his life depended on it.

“Hey, buddy,” you whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his dark fuzz of hair. “Mama just needs one free hand, okay?”

Joseph responded by tightening his grip and letting out a small, indignant whine.

Danny, who had been leaning against the counter pretending not to hover, was at your side in half a second.

“He’s hungry,” Danny said confidently. You raised an eyebrow. “He ate ten minutes ago.”

“…He’s tired?” “He just woke up.”

Danny frowned at his son, who immediately buried his face into your neck. “…Okay, maybe he just loves you more.”

Frank Reagan cleared his throat from the dining room. “Daniel.”

Danny straightened instinctively. “Yeah, Dad?”

“Why is my grandson making that noise?” Joseph chose that moment to let out a dramatic little huff, as if deeply offended by the question.

Erin appeared beside Frank, arms crossed, amused. “Looks like separation anxiety.”

“Oh, don’t start,” Danny muttered. “He’s fine.”

Joseph responded by grabbing your necklace and tugging on it, clearly announcing that no, he was not fine unless he was glued to you.

Jamie leaned over the back of his chair. “Wow. He’s got a grip. You should put him on the force early.”

You laughed softly. “He’s already got his father’s stubbornness,” Danny smirked. “That’s a good thing.”

“Debatable,” Erin said.

You finally sat down at the table with Joseph still pressed against your chest, his cheek warm against your collarbone. The moment you shifted him even an inch away, he whined again.

“Oh, no,” you murmured, adjusting him back. “Okay, okay, I got you.”

Frank watched the whole thing with an unreadable expression before finally saying, “He’s very… attached.”

Danny beamed. “Smart kid.”

“He gets that from Y/N,” Eddie's absence lingered quietly in the room, but Frank smiled gently anyway. “Babies know where they’re safe.”

Your chest tightened just a little at that.

Danny slid into the chair next to you, one hand immediately resting on Joseph’s back, thumb rubbing soothing circles. Joseph relaxed almost instantly, his tiny body melting against you.

“There,” Danny murmured. “Team effort.”

Jamie grinned. “Look at that. He’s got both of you wrapped around his finger already.”

Joseph yawned, then very deliberately latched onto your sleeve again.

“Oh my God,” Erin laughed. “He’s not even subtle.”

You smiled down at him, heart practically overflowing. “I guess he’s just having one of those days.”

Danny leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… he’s never this clingy.”

Danny pressed a kiss to your temple. “Hey. He’s got good taste.”

Joseph peeked up at Danny, studied him for a moment, then reached out—and grabbed Danny’s finger with surprising strength.

Danny froze. “…Did you see that?” he whispered.

Jamie gasped theatrically. “Oh, that’s it. He’s chosen.”

Frank chuckled softly. “Looks like Joseph wants both his parents.”

Danny’s expression softened in a way that made your chest ache—in the best way. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently to Joseph’s.

“Hey, little man,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Joseph cooed. You swore your heart grew three sizes.

Dinner continued in typical Reagan fashion—Jamie and Erin bickering, Frank offering sage advice no one asked for—but through it all, Joseph refused to leave your arms. When you tried to pass him to Eddie—Absolutely not.

To Jamie? Immediate protest.

Even Frank didn’t escape; Joseph eyed him suspiciously and clutched you tighter.

Danny laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes. “That’s my son.”

Eventually, Joseph grew sleepy, his grip loosening, lashes fluttering. You rocked him gently. “Someone finally wore himself out.”

Danny carefully stood, arms out. “Let me.” You hesitated just a second before handing Joseph over.

Joseph blinked—then relaxed against Danny’s chest, one tiny hand still gripping your finger.

“…Okay,” Erin said softly. “That’s illegal levels of cute.”

Danny swayed slightly, instinctive, protective, completely undone. He looked at you, eyes warm.

“Joe would’ve loved him,” he said quietly.

You smiled, stepping closer, resting your hand over Joseph’s back. “I think he’d be proud.”

Danny leaned in, kissing you softly, carefully, like he didn’t want to wake the baby.

Frank watched the two of you, pride clear in his eyes.