Siren's call
James liked to think he was good under pressure.
Burning building? He’s got it. Car crash on a freeway? No problem. Screaming toddler with a broken arm and three panicked relatives? Piece of cake. He thrived on chaos — the unpredictable rhythm of sirens and soot and last-minute saves. It was where he belonged.
So, really, it didn’t make sense that one look from a redhead in jeans and a leather jacket was enough to knock the wind out of him harder than a backdraft.
“Guys,” Remus was saying, gesturing toward the woman at his side. “This is Lily.”
Lily, James repeated mentally, because his brain had short-circuited and needed reminding of literally everything else in the world except her name.
She smiled — warm, a little cautious, but completely unbothered by five firefighters staring at her like she’d just descended from the clouds.
“Hi,” she said. “I brought muffins. I’ve heard that’s the best way to make friends with first responders.”
She held up a bakery box like a peace offering.
James was already in love.
“You’re right,” Marlene said, eyeing the box with reverence. “You’ve got great instincts.”
Frank raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Typical. Frank processed new people in the same way he processed emergency reports: slowly, and only after cross-referencing three different files.
“Wait— muffins?” James finally managed, moving forward. “As in baked muffins? Like… flour and love and sugar?”
“Mostly sugar,” Lily said, laughing. “The love part depends on whether Remus remembered my birthday last year.”
“I did,” Remus muttered from behind her. “You’re just still bitter I didn’t throw a party.”
“You bought me socks.”
“They were very nice socks.”
Lily rolled her eyes but the corner of her mouth quirked upward, and James watched the exchange like it was a tennis match he hadn’t been invited to. The kind that came with an unspoken history and inside jokes and fifteen years of mutual mockery.
“So,” Lily said, turning to the group. “Who’s who?”
“Oh, I got this,” James blurted before anyone else could speak. “I’m James — definitely the favorite.”
Remus made a choking sound behind her.
James grinned. “That’s Marlene — she’s the scariest. Don’t let the hair fool you. Frank’s the one pretending he’s not listening to us. And Sirius is— well. Sirius.”
Sirius gave Lily a lazy two-finger salute from the kitchen counter where he was nursing a bottle of water like it was something stronger. “You’re the Lily,” he said.
She blinked. “I… think so?”
He tilted his head. “Remus never shuts up about you.”
Remus made another sound — this one more like a growl.
Lily just smiled, completely unfazed. “That sounds about right.”
James wanted to say something clever — something to keep her attention — but his brain was full of static. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid, her freckles were catching the light, and her eyes were… wow.
“So,” he managed, trying to recover. “What do you do, Lily-with-the-muffins?”
“I’m a nurse at St. Mungo’s. Trauma mostly,” she said, casually, like she hadn’t just leveled the entire room.
Of course she was.
“Oh,” James said, suddenly self-conscious of the way he was standing, like he should square his shoulders or puff out his chest or something equally stupid. “Cool. That’s, uh— important.”
“You worked with Mary, right?” Marlene asked.
“Yep,” Lily said. “She’s one of my best friends. We did our residency at the same hospital before she transferred over to dispatch.”
Remus took the muffin box from her and placed it on the table, already opening it. “Lily and I grew up together,” he added, glancing at James briefly. “Basically siblings. We’ve known each other since we were five.”
“Four and a half,” Lily corrected, nudging him lightly with her shoulder.
“Right. She corrected me before she could spell her own name.”
“She spelled your name first,” she said brightly. “So I could write it on your forehead when you fell asleep.”
James laughed before he could stop himself. “Okay, yeah. You’re staying.”
Lily turned to him, a teasing spark in her eye. “Staying where?”
“In the firehouse,” he said quickly. “I mean, not in the firehouse, like, living here, obviously, that would be— weird. Probably a violation. But like. You’re welcome any time.”
Smooth.
Frank finally spoke up from the corner. “You offering guest passes now, Potter?”
“Only for people bearing baked goods,” James said. “And also named Lily.”
That earned him another smile, and this one hit harder than the last.
Remus looked between the two of them like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected. James caught the glance but didn’t say anything. He just kept smiling at Lily, trying not to trip over his own feet as she walked toward the couch and perched on the armrest like she’d done it a thousand times before.
Comfortable. At ease. Already part of the team.
James sat on the edge of the coffee table across from her, ignoring the way Sirius raised an eyebrow at him from behind his water bottle.
“So,” Lily said, crossing her legs. “Any of you lot actually know how to cook? Or are you all just surviving off station chili and takeout?”
“I make a mean pasta,” James said instantly. “Mean as in aggressively mediocre. But edible. Mostly.”
“You’re selling it well.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m more of a dessert guy anyway.”
“Oh? You bake?”
“God, no. I eat dessert. That’s my specialty.”
She laughed again — a little softer this time — and James felt it sink into his chest like warmth.
It was ridiculous. He barely knew her. But something about the way she fit into the firehouse so naturally made him want to know everything.
And if Remus noticed the way James looked at Lily after that?
Well, he didn’t say a word.