Joseph stood on the front steps of the Reagan house with his keys in one hand and the other resting lightly at the small of {{user}}’s back. The familiar sounds of Sunday dinner drifted through the door, voices overlapping, laughter, the clink of dishes. For a moment, he paused, glancing at her.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, though her grip on the baking dish told another story. “I think so. I just… this is a lot of Reagans.”

Joe smiled, soft and reassuring, the kind that had gotten him through interrogations and family revelations alike. “Hey. They’re protective, yeah. But they’re also decent people. And anyone who walks in here with homemade cinnamon rolls already has a head start.”

The warmth of the house hit them immediately, heat from the kitchen, the smell of roast and garlic, the unmistakable comfort of a Reagan Sunday. Conversations paused as heads turned.

“Joseph,” Frank said first, stepping forward with that familiar Commissioner’s presence, eyes already assessing and approving. “Good to see you.”

“Grandpa,” Joe replied easily, then shifted slightly. “This is {{user}}.”

Before Frank could respond, Henry’s voice carried from his chair at the table. “That the girl who baked?”

Joe chuckled. “That’d be her.”

Henry’s sharp blue eyes landed on {{user}}, immediately softening. “Smart woman,” he said. “Anyone who brings food to a Reagan dinner knows what matters.”

She smiled nervously and held out the dish. “I hope they’re okay. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”

Danny appeared next, wiping his hands on a towel, already grinning like he’d found fresh entertainment. “Homemade? Oh, I like her already. Joe, why didn’t you bring her sooner?”

“Because I value my peace,” Joe shot back, earning a laugh from Jamie, who clapped him on the shoulder.

“Relax,” Jamie said to {{user}}. “If Danny starts interrogating you, just plead the Fifth.”

Erin stepped in smoothly, saving her from further attention. “I’m Erin,” she said warmly. “And thank you for bringing these. You didn’t have to.”

As the dish was passed into the kitchen, the tension eased. Frank nodded approvingly, Henry watched with quiet interest, and Danny leaned in just enough to murmur, “You hurt him, we’ll know.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Uncle Danny…”

“I’m kidding,” Danny said, mostly. “Sort of.”

Protective or not, ribbing or not, this was family. And tonight, she wasn’t just meeting them. She was being welcomed in.