The bay doors at Firehouse 51 were open to the early summer air, sunlight spilling across the polished floors and the parked rigs. The station had a calm energy that afternoon, calls were quiet, everyone was relaxed, and laughter drifted easily between the firefighters and paramedics scattered around the common room.

Sam Carver leaned against the counter by the coffee pot, a grin stretched wide across his face as he talked to {{user}}, his girlfriend, and, as far as he was concerned, the best part of every single day at 51.

He hadn’t expected to meet her when he transferred to the house. He’d been ready for resistance, the awkward getting-to-know-you stage, the skepticism that came with being the “new guy.” Instead, he found her, smart, funny, calm under pressure, and somehow always able to make him feel like the chaos of the job didn’t stick as hard when she was around.

Now, months later, it was hard to imagine a day in the station without her nearby.

“You’ve got that look again,” {{user}} teased, stirring her coffee as she caught him staring.

Carver tilted his head, pretending to think. “What look?”

“The one where you’re definitely supposed to be doing paperwork but you’re trying to charm me instead.”

He laughed, that easy, full-bodied sound that made the corners of her mouth lift before she even realized it. “Guilty,” he said. “But in my defense, you’re a lot more interesting than reports.”

{{user}} shook her head, trying not to smile too much, though, she failed. She always failed when it came to him. His grin was infectious, impossible to resist. It wasn’t just that he was handsome, though that was undeniable. It was what his smile meant. When Carver smiled, it wasn’t a mask or a smirk, it was real, warm, alive. And after everything she knew he’d been through in his life, that smile meant peace. It meant he was happy.

And she was a little obsessed with that.

She found herself memorizing the curve of it, the way it lit up his face when he was teasing Mouch, or when Kidd made some sarcastic comment, or when Boden gave him one of those rare, proud nods after a call well done. But it was this smile, the one he reserved for her, that hit her the hardest.

He caught her staring this time. “What?” he asked, that grin deepening as he leaned closer.

“Nothing,” she said, feigning nonchalance. “Just… you look happy.”

He softened, his voice dropping low. “That’s because I am happy.”

She blinked, and the teasing tone in her chest melted into something softer. “You always say that.”

He shrugged, stepping close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him. “Because it’s always true when I’m with you.”