Peter's pov

I was happy as the date for my cousin Juliet Victoria Baez-Reagan to be born inched closer and closer, despite the fact that LJ still was keeping her distance from me. And that's even without me telling her or anyone in my family about the Marines prior to the NYPD. I can't lose her, but I can't turn my back on my dreams either. She just needs time.

I'm brought out of my thoughts by a notification from the family group chat. Aunt Maria was in labor, and the clan was swarming the hospital. I quickly followed suit, obviously. The labor was surprisingly quick, and only 8 hours later, Julie was in her parents arms. Thankfully, she was passed around to her brothers and other relatives soon enough. To the surprise of everyone in the room, I spoke

"I volunteer to hold her last."

Eyes piercing through me, my sister declared

"Either an imposter or you have an ulterior motive, Pete."

I nodded

"That second one. If I hold her last, there's no pressure to give her to next person."

Everyone laughed at my plan, which should have been obvious in hindsight. Uncle Danny playfully rolled his eyes at me

"Unless the next person is one of her parents, Kiddo."

I playfully shook my head at him

"You wish."

He pointed a faux-angry finger at me

"If you weren't holding my baby girl, I'd have you in a headlock right now."

However that not-at-all menacing 'threat' only made me laugh

"All the more reason to never give her back."

The whole family laughed at the exchange, but we left a few hours later to let the now family of five rest. Besides, I had school the next day.

Timeskip- next day, still Peter's pov

Much to my anguish, Lara Jean was still ignoring me. Even in the classes we had together. She was going as far as switching seats to not have to sit next to me. I know she needs to process, but this was driving me insane, and it terrified me to think that it could get worse when she found out about the Marines. I was hanging near the bleachers when I noticed a group of kids, some freshmen. They were off to the sides of the bleachers, and they were getting high on some hardcore stuff. Stuff the NYPD was trying to eradicate from the streets. They were giving their blood, sweat and tears to get rid of this nasty drug, and now here it was in my own school, being used by some stupid 14 year olds. Then a thought crossed my mind. Stupid, impressionable fourteen-year-olds, obviously affected by peer pressure. And there was no knowledge of my Reagan connection at school, as far as records go. Only my friends knew of that side of my heritage. I smirked, plan being formed instantly in my head as I approached said group of young teens. What better way to up their street cred than having a senior share in their loot and pick up more straight from their dealer in his own car?

Once the group saw me, I knew I had made the desired effect on them. The girls stared, swooning a bit. The boys, 3 in all in comparison to the four girls, momentarily scowled at the attention that had been sent my way, then decided to be friendly, no doubt seeing the benefits I had thought of in my head earlier. Thankfully, I also remembered last minute that my Dad's last name would also not serve a purpose here, as he was a famous defense attorney in the city. Easing a smile onto my face, I smiled

"Hey. I'm Peter Riordan, a senior here. What's that? Fenty? Coke? Giggle pig?"

I had decided to go with my Uncle Jamie's first undercover surname, and Giggle Pig was a dangerous fast-acting poisonous drug that had once ravaged the city. They laughed

"That's for kids. And Riordan, do you SEE the pig emblem on this bag?"

I forced a small chuckle

"You're right, it's not Giggle Pig. So, what is it? Can I have some? And, dudes, I have my own ride, and a legal license. I can get your supply for you, easy peasy. But I want in, and I'd need the details. You in, or you out?"

Thankfully, they were naive, and accepted my offer. The guy who appeared to be the ring leader puffed out his chest, sly smirk on his face, completely unaware he'd just fallen into the palm of my hand, and therefore, of the NYPD

"Riordan, this is Fire Ring. Fentanyl, Coke, Giggle Pig AND heroine. Oh, and there's a small dose of Goodnight Cinderella. This is the drug of drugs."

I kept an impressed and interested look on my face, but inside I was mourning for the time when all fourteen-year-olds cared about was either playing outside or being on electronics. What is the world coming to? At least I can put a stop to it, straight from the root of the problem. I feigned yet another smile

"Fire Ring. Cool name. So, who and where do I get the batches from to bring to you guys?"

Falling straight into my trap, I soon had an address and a name for their supplier, Lee Gainsville. I quickly made a recon on the status of every precinct, and seeing they were incredibly busy, I decided to man up and deal with Gainsville myself. I did not have a gun, but I did still have a Kevlar bullet-proof vest that I kept after a ride-along, seeing as it had been an extra delivery that was unaccounted for. Even if citizen's arrests were a thing and I planned on calling the cavalry for the actual arrest, I was gonna get in so much trouble for this...

After school, I headed over to his place, knowing that he would open the door once I gave the password. Besides, he'd been given the heads-up that I was the new courier. I knocked

"Fire"

He let me in without a moments' hesitation and I quickly assessed my surroundings. He had a gun, probably more; but I could use some vases and sculptures he had laying around. He gave me a couple of bags of his vile product, and I took a picture, sending it straight to 1PP, knowing it would find its way to the other appropriate channels. I took a picture of the label, where the recipe was on full display.

He eyed me suspiciously, hand going to his holster

"You're not a courier, are you?"

I shook my head

"Nope."

I then made a back flip, managing to avoid a bullet he'd sent my way, but was not spared from one hitting my knee. Yes, the same knee I had surgery on. It was stronger than my non-operated knee, but, much like the kids who fell for the peer pressure, it was far too sensitive. Knowing NYPD officers had now been dispatched to collect the freshmen and Gainsville, I kept up the fight, knowing the fight was almost over. I threw a vase at his face, hoping to startle him enough to make him drop the gun, and he did, but managed a shot at my shoulder before his piece fell to the floor and a sea of blue swarmed around him, arresting him.

In the chaos of it all, I heard my Uncle Danny's voice

"That was 50 levels of stupid and brave. But we gotta get to the hospital. Your parents are outside and they're both proud of what you did and incredibly furious with what you did. Have fun with that. Will's on a shift at St. Victor's, and it's the closest hospital, we're headed there. He's been given permission to work on your case, especially since he was the previous surgeon on your knee. Hang in there."

I nodded, pain reverberating everywhere. At least my shoulder was just bruised, heavily. The bullet hadn't penetrated the Kevlar. I was quickly whisked away for surgery, going in and out of consciousness due to pain before even being put under. Once I came to in the recovery room, it was time to face the music. I felt a twinge of guilt seeing that my parents and sister had been crying, and so had Covey, but she was at my bedside. She spoke first

"I love you too much to lose you. Please."

I nodded, leaning into her touch as she kissed my forehead and she spoke

"We can talk more about your plans when you get out of here. Heal first."

I smiled softly at her

"Yes, Ma'am."

And with that, she left me at the mercy of my family, more so my parents. Mom and Dad were synched up, nearly yelling

"What were you THINKING?"

I sighed

"I saw the knuckleheads about to sell right in front of me. They are 14, gonna go to juvie now, but I needed to contain the damage. I checked the precincts through the police scanner, everyone was busy. I probably should have just called in a tip, but I decided to sorta go undercover instead... I had the Kevlar on, and no, it wasn't stolen, it was left over from a batch that had one too many, and I kept it after a ride-along. I just wanted to help. I'm a Reagan, I'm a Kavinsky, it's what we do."

My Dad spoke next

"You call it in, you text or call us, or call a tip. Don't do this again until you've graduated the Academy. And let your knee heal. Same rules and timetable as last time."

Once they were sufficiently finished with yelling at me, and then thanking me for the help that I had indisputably given, my family took a deep, collective breath. Mom was the first to break the silence, hand still holding mine as if I would disappear if she let go

"Anyone have any good news to lighten up the mood?"

Will smiled and squeezed Aunt Jess's hand

"Actually, we do."

Aunt Jess spoke

"We're expecting twins. Emily Reilly and Nathan Brooks Reagan- Hochman.

Congratulations went around, celebrating the incoming number 11 and 12 of the fourth generation of Reagans. Soon, wiped from the days' events,I fell asleep.