FRIENDLY FIRE: A 9-1-1 fanfiction

Epilogue: The End

Thank you for coming on this journey with me.
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5 Years Later...

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EMMA

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"Christopher!" I yelled again, trying to coax the sixteen year old out of the bathroom, "You've been in there for an hour!"

"I'm nearly done!" Christopher groaned back, "I can't get my hair to look right!"

I threw my hands up in exasperation before darting around to wash a few bottles that were sitting in the sink. "You're not the groom! It doesn't matter if your hair doesn't look completely perfect as long as it is semi brushed!"

"Don't be tonta," Marcello sighed dramatically, coming out in a bright red suit, two mini curlers sitting in his moustache. "Every growing boy needs to look his best. Otherwise, how will he get married?"

"Well," I huffed, rinsing out the bottles, "considering Chris is sixteen, I would really hope marriage is the last thing on his mind."

"But girlfriends are not," Marcello shot back, "let him groom himself to his perfect standards."

"Oh, sure," I set the bottles out to dry at a rapid speed before using my wrist to brush hair away from my face. "So long as he covers the water bills after he's done with his forty-five minute shower."

"You're impossible, Niña," Marcello sighed, "you have no idea what it means to be a sixteen year old boy. You have no idea of the struggle and—"

"Chris! Out! Now!" Eddie yelled, cutting off Marcello's monologue.

"Oh," I sighed dramatically, clutching my chest for extra effect, "I have never loved that man more."

"None of you let me speak in this house," Marcello quipped, "I have some valuable life lessons, you kn—"

"Chris!" Eddie belted out again, "I laid your suit out on your bed!"

"Jesús!" Marcello snapped, "What does a man have to do to be heard in this house?"

"Own it." Eddie walked out into the living room, his bow tie not yet tied around his neck and hanging loosely around his neck. He'd finished ironing his dress pants, and he'd even managed to get his shoes on by now. He was rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up when he appeared, smirking widely.

Marcello flipped him off promptly.

I grinned, wiping my wet hands on my baggy shirt, "You look hot."

Eddie met my eyes from across the room, giving me a quick once over; I was still in my pyjama bottoms, and my shirt hadn't been washed in a week. "You look ravishing, babe."

I made a point of flipping my wet hair over my shoulder before sashaying out of the kitchen, "Elena?"

"Happily playing in her playpen," Eddie smiled, holding his hand out to me.

I accepted it, letting him spin me around carefully before I stopped in front of him, my hands on his chest, "Fed?"

"For once, yes," he chirped, "I mean, she did look at the green beans like they mortally offended her, but she still ate them."