#hermann x reader

A/N: I used my OC here instead of reader due to her age. In her world, I doubt a few of these guys would have been around when she was this young, but for the sake of this little fic, they are!

“Am I interrupting something?”

As Battalion Chief of Firehouse 51, Wallace Boden had been and would continue to be witness to many unconventional happenings. Though most of these occurred outside of the Firehouse, typically on jobs in less typical places, he of course had to make room for such antics in the building that a large number of men and women lived in for twenty-four hours at a time.

This, however, was something he had not prepared for. Crossing his arms over his chest, he dipped his head dangerously low. “Why,” he began slowly, “are three of my men in a single shower...” He glanced down. “With a toddler?”

Said three men, in nothing but white vest tops and shorts, visibly grimaced at such a statement.

“Context, Chief, please,” Hermann said.

Boden’s expression turned icy. “That’s what I’m asking for.”

“In! In!”

All heads turned down at the little chipper voice. Beatrice Casey stood squeezed between the men in the single shower cubicle, her sopping wet, soapy hair stuck in odd angles. She was grinning widely, despite the water raining down on her face, and her hands were making little grabby motions towards the chief, who valiantly stood his ground.

Sighing, Otis squeezed baby soap into his hand from a bottle. “You’ve gotta get in, Chief.”

Boden’s brows had never risen higher in such a short amount of time. “Excuse me?”

Cruz shrugged. “She says you’ve gotta get in. It’s your own fault for letting her see you.”

Herman rolled his eyes and nudged Cruz with a sharp elbow. Ignoring Cruz’s protest, he turned an imploring look on Boden. “She’ll cry, Chief,” he attempted to explain. “You don’t want that.”

To be quite frank, Boden would rather any other unconventional happening than this...whatever it was. Uncrossing his arms, he brought his hands to either side of his face and took his time peering at each man. Otis had bent down and was scrubbing at a dark mark on the front of Bea’s top. Hermann and Cruz thankfully had the good grace to look ashamed at having been caught in this situation. Which, annoyingly so, Boden still was not understanding.

“What am I missing here?” he asked curtly. If he did not receive an answer in the next thirty seconds, there were no possibilities of evading his raised voice. Of course, he would remove the baby from the room first.

“Casey asked me to wash the chocolate off her,” Otis said, still scrubbing.

“Which somehow translated to ‘give her a shower’ as compared to ‘just take her to the kitchen sink’.” Herman was obviously unimpressed.

“Her clothes were dirty too!” Otis argued. “I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone, so I got her in the shower, and she wanted me to get in with her, so I did.” He shrugged. “Then when Cruz came in, she wanted him to get in, and when he said no, her...” He glanced tentatively up at the others, who seemed to grow even more shameful, if that was at all possible. Though Boden honestly believed anything was possible at this point.

“Her bottom lip started trembling,” Cruz interrupted, subconsciously raising his hands in emphasis, “and her eyes welled up with tears—”

“So you got in,” Boden finished.

“Yeah.” Cruz nodded, offering a forced smile which was clearly not lightly received. “Then Hermann came, and...you get the picture.”

Boden took a minute. He looked at Bea, quite happily stood under the flow of water as Otis rubbed soap into the stain and gently wiped around her chocolatey mouth, and then back to Hermann and Cruz, who both honestly looked as though they’d do anything to just leave.

He extended an arm out towards them, blinking as he pulled the facts together. “So, what you’re telling me...is that the three of you were bested by a toddler?”

There was silence for a moment, before the men nodded in agreement.

“Yes,” Otis said.

Cruz clicked his fingers. “Exactly.”

Hermann winced. “Kids, man,” he said. “They’re like kryptonite.”

“In! In! Chief!” Bea aimed her grabby hands in the Chief’s direction once more, the brightest smile adorning her little face. The men turned discreetly questioning glances towards him, each silently wondering if they’d have to make more room.

Boden had never been lucky to have biological children, but he didn’t count himself inexperienced in the matter. Whether through the compassion of the job, or the leadership he had over people he may as well consider his own, he could handle a three-year-old. More specifically, he could handle Beatrice Casey.

Grabbing up a towel, he stepped towards the shower and knelt just outside. “Ahh,” he said as he opened the towel and wrapped Bea up in it. “You, little Casey, are finished for today.” At the tell-tale wobble of her lips and the sudden glazing of her blue eyes, he stood to his feet and tutted. “Now, I’ll have no tears. None at all.” He picked up some extra towels and threw them in his men’s direction.

“Get going,” he ordered. His voice was firm yet swirling with a common hint of amusement at the situation now that it had all settled down, and once they’d left his sight and he sat down on a bench with Bea, he allowed himself a small smile.

Children.

Chicago Fire Masterpost