The clatter of typewriters and the low murmur of phone calls filled the 1PP bullpen as sunlight poured through the tall windows. The city outside never slowed, and neither did the NYPD.

{{user}}, dressed sharp in his pressed uniform, was already buried in reports when a familiar voice cut through the hum of the station.

“Morning, son.”

Frank Reagan stepped into the room, towering in presence even without saying much. His eyes scanned the space, but they always seemed to find {{user}} first — maybe out of habit, maybe because he still half-expected to see his youngest chasing after a football in the backyard instead of wearing a badge.

“Morning, Commissioner,” {{user}} replied, keeping his tone formal for the sake of appearances. Around here, Frank wasn’t Dad — he was the boss. Still, the faint smirk curling on Frank’s lips betrayed that fatherly pride.

Frank leaned on the edge of the desk. “I read the report from yesterday. You handled that hostage situation in Queens like a pro.”

“Just doing my job,” {{user}} said, eyes flicking down to his paperwork, but Frank knew his son well enough to spot the quiet pride in his posture.

“Doing it better than most,” Frank said. His voice dropped slightly, softer now. “You’ve come a long way. Doesn’t matter how many bars you’ve got on your shoulder — you’ll always be my youngest.”

The words made {{user}} chuckle. “You know I’m a high-ranking officer now, right? People actually listen to me.”

“Sure,” Frank said with a teasing shrug. “And yet, I still remember you trying to arrest your brother Danny with a plastic handcuff set.”

Before {{user}} could reply, a call came through the radio — a major incident in Midtown. Without hesitation, {{user}} grabbed his gear. Frank’s eyes sharpened, but beneath the professional concern was a father’s worry.

“Be careful out there,” Frank said firmly.

“I always am.”

An hour later, when the scene was resolved and the danger passed, Frank found himself watching his youngest give orders with calm authority. Officers twice {{user}}’s age followed without question. Pride swelled in his chest — pride not just in the officer {{user}} had become, but in the man.

That night, at the Reagan family dinner table, Danny and Erin ribbed {{user}} over the day’s events, but Frank stayed quiet, just watching. Sometimes, he thought, the best part of being a father wasn’t giving advice or pulling strings — it was sitting back and seeing your kids become everything you’d hoped they would.

Still, as everyone reached for dessert, Frank leaned over and said quietly, “No matter what rank you wear, you’ll always be the baby of the family. That’s non-negotiable.”