Page 202 of Knotting the Firefighters
Did he just?—
Did Tom just announce?—
Aidric's jaw literally drops—mouth opening in expression of pure shock, every carefully maintained mask crumbling as realization hits.
Chief.
Aidric is Chief.
Not co-chief, not interim, not temporary.
CHIEF.
The crowd explodes—a celebration that shakes the building's structure, applause and cheering that makes previous reactions seem subdued by comparison.
Station Fahrenheit crew rushes forward—ignoring proper stage protocol in favor of mobbing Aidric with congratulations, backslaps, and the particular masculine affection that emerges during significant moments.
They're happy for him.
Genuinely happy.
Not resentful or jealous but celebrating his success.
Someone produces champagne—multiple bottles that appear from nowhere, corks popping with celebratory abandon. Liquid sprays in arcs, coating everyone nearby in sticky sweetness that no one seems to mind.
Champagne shower.
Literal champagne shower.
Like we won an actual championship rather than a small-town dance competition.
I squeal—a high-pitched sound of pure joy—and launch myself at Aidric with a hug that would probably knock over a smaller Alpha.
"Congratulations!" The words tumble out rapid-fire, enthusiasm overriding verbal coordination. "You earned this! You absolutely earned this through hard work and dedication, and growth!"
He did earn it.
Actually earned it rather than receiving a position through default or nepotism.
Proved himself ready for leadership responsibility.
His blush is spectacular—color flooding his face in ways that make him look younger, more vulnerable, less controlled than his usual presentation.
"I'm stunned," he admits quietly, voice nearly lost in surrounding celebration. "Genuinely stunned. Didn't expect formal announcement, didn't anticipate public declaration, thought there would be private conversation and gradual transition."
Tom ambushed him.
Public announcement eliminating opportunity for self-doubt or overthinking.
Strategic leadership decision to force acceptance.
The celebration continues around us—crew members shouting congratulations, town residents offering approval, general atmosphere of community satisfaction at the local success story.
Aidric's expression shifts—vulnerability flickering across features before being suppressed beneath professional composure. His voice drops to a whisper, meant only for me despite the surrounding chaos:
"I guess I do belong."
Belong.
