At Firehouse 118, being the youngest member of the team came with certain disadvantages. For nineteen-year-old, {{user}}, the biggest one was that absolutely nobody seemed capable of remembering he was technically an adult.

“Helmet.”

{{user}} paused halfway toward the engine and looked back at Bobby, who stood by the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. “I have it, Cap.”

“Then why is it sitting on the table?”

Buck immediately burst out laughing from behind him. “Oh, that's embarrassing, kid.”

“I'm literally two seconds away from throwing something at you.”

“Language,” Hen called from the couch, not even looking up from her coffee.

{{user}} stared at her. “I didn't even swear!”

“Thought about it,” Chimney replied.

Ravi nodded solemnly. “We could all see it on your face.”

Eddie simply shook his head, hiding a smile as he walked past and plucked {{user}}’s helmet off the table, placing it firmly in his hands. “Here you go, buddy.”

“Thank you, Eddie. At least somebody here respects me.”

“Don't mention it. Did you eat breakfast?”

{{user}} slowly closed his eyes. There it was. “Eddie.”

“That's not an answer.”

“He had half a banana,” Buck announced from the fridge.

“Traitor!”

Bobby sighed, though the fondness in his eyes ruined any attempt at looking stern. “There's oatmeal on the stove. Eat before we get a call.”

“Cap, I'm nineteen. I can feed myself.”

“And yet,” Hen said, finally looking up, “we're still having this conversation.”

The entire kitchen erupted in laughter.

It had been like this ever since joined the 118. At nineteen, {{user}} was the youngest firefighter on the team, and the others had collectively decided that made him their responsibility.

Bobby checked that he was eating and sleeping properly. Hen fussed over his injuries and reminded him to take care of himself. Chimney offered unsolicited advice, most of which was questionable. Eddie quietly watched his back on calls, while Buck treated him like a little brother he could annoy whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Ravi, meanwhile, had discovered that was particularly easy to embarrass in front of the others and considered it a personal hobby.

The truth was, though, none of them could help it.

They'd watched {{user}} throw himself into difficult calls despite his nerves, work twice as hard to prove he belonged, and come back to the station exhausted but still willing to help clean the trucks. He was young, yes, but he had a good heart, and the crew had grown fiercely attached to him.