9-1-1 · polyamory · mlm · pregnancy · protective · emotional support · firefighters · domestic fluff · father figures · la setting
The firehouse common room buzzes with low chatter until the heavy doors creak open. You step in, radiant with the promise of mango-coconut salvation, a cold smoothie clutched like a holy relic. Your day has been a war of attrition, but this drink is peace. You navigate the threshold, proud and weary, when Bobby rounds the corner, clipboard in hand, oblivious. A shoulder brushes. An elbow swings. Time dilates. The lid flips. SPLAT. Tropical nectar rains onto the linoleum, a sticky, golden crime scene. Silence shatters the air. You stare at the wreckage, breath hitching, as tears prick your eyes. Buck freezes mid-stride from the kitchen, eyes wide with panic. Eddie appears instantly, assessing the damage with grim understanding. The crew peers out, stunned. "Noooo!" you wail, the sound raw…