Their hands brush when Chris shoves the scratch-offs into his chest, and for a fleeting moment, the world aligns. Street swallows when they get outside, his cheeky grin falling when it's clear she won't let up, and sends a quick, apologetic text to the tour guide. In her periphery, Chris watches him send it then carries on towards her truck, turning back when she doesn't feel him beside her.

"So, I'll follow on my bike?" He offers, but her cutting laugh hits his ears before he's done, and she shouts across the small expanse.

"Nope. Your bike's going in the bed of my truck. I'm not explaining to Hondo that you rode off somewhere and left me hanging."

"You trust me that little?"

There's an underlying hurt in his words, but Chris shrugs. She blocks the high evening sun with her hand, a smile playing at her lips, and jerks her head towards her truck.

"Maybe after tonight, I'll trust you a little more. Let's go."

"So," Street starts, awkward and unsure of where to go as Chris keeps her eyes on the road and alt-rock plays soft through her radio. Denim is rough beneath his fingertips where he keeps running his hands over his thighs. "You said it's your cousin's food truck?"

Humming in affirmation, she doesn't spare him a glance as she makes a left turn, guided by muscle memory.

"Yeah, my cousin Isabella. On Fridays she parks in the neighborhood for a few hours between lunch and late night at Grand Park. Most of my family usually shows, but it'll be smaller tonight, just my Aunt, Uncle, cousin Tomas, and niece Mirabel. Probably some other neighbors, but we've got a reserved table."

"Your parents?" He broaches carefully, wincing when he sees her face change and he knows he's hit a nerve. Clenching her jaw, she doesn't let him stumble over an unnecessary apology.

"No. My dad was never in the picture, and my mom died years ago."

He swears he feels the ice beneath him getting thinner, if that's even possible, so he doesn't press her for more details and hunts for something that will make her relax.

"You said your niece is going to be there?"

Her eyes brighten immediately, and it warms his heart as much as it fills him with an uncomfortable sadness that lodges a rock in his stomach. He tries to focus on her voice instead of the screaming memories in his head.

"She's nine, and amazing. She plays the guitar, is one of the funniest kids you'll ever meet, and she's begging my Aunt Helena for a dirt bike, so don't be surprised if she asks about your bike and tries to rope you into it. But it will put you in Helena's good graces if you can convince her not to ask again until she's thirteen, because she's definitely not getting one before then."

"Noted," he laughs. "What do your Aunt and Uncle do for work?"

Glancing over, she sees the nervousness written into his face, and it makes her chest tight. She slows down to the speed limit to extend the last few minutes of their drive.

"My Uncle owns a construction company and my Aunt teaches ESL classes."

"So I should not try to impress her with my Spanish?"

"No, you absolutely should. Are you ready?"

Too distracted by their conversation, Street looks forward for the first time in a few minutes and sees the bright, colorful food truck being swarmed by neighborhood kids and adults trying in vain to keep them in line. Sweat breaks out on the back of his neck, the scratch-offs heavy in his jacket pocket. His shallow breathing catches Chris's attention, and she turns to him once she's parked, not yet unlocking the doors. She's uncertain of herself, but reaches across the small console to touch his shoulder.

"Hey, it just looks chaotic, I promise. You see the kid with the curly black hair, tall?"

Scanning the crowd, his gaze locks onto the only one young enough to be who she's talking about, with a little girl on his shoulders. He nods.

"That's Tomas, and Mirabel. My Aunt and Uncle are already at the table on the other side of the truck. We'll go see them first, and then we can grab food."

He nods again but still looks like he's going to puke. Sighing, she gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and stares at his profile until he meets her eyes so she can smile at him. His breath is stolen by how the sunset catches her skin and bathes her in gold, her voice just as warm.

"You're on 20-Squad now. Like it or not, that means family, and family is worth it. I wouldn't have agreed to this if I didn't believe that, or if I didn't trust you. Now, c'mon. I'm starving."

The words fill up the cab, and he breathes them in deeply until his heartbeat slows. Chris sticks her keys in her pocket and closes her door to give him one more minute to get himself together. Though her windows are tinted, she sees him clear his throat and nod to himself, like he's reminding himself there's not going to be a knock-out fight within the next twenty minutes. His story floats through her head and she takes a deep breath of her own.

God forbid her and Karen Street ever cross paths.

But Chris doesn't get the chance to dwell on that thought. She hears the other door open and close, and her plan to introduce him slowly is immediately thrown to the fire when Mirabel catches sight of her and demands to be put down. Throwing an arm out to keep Street from trying to traverse the crowd, she ignores his look in favor of bending down in anticipation of her niece throwing herself into her arms.

"Aunt Chrissy!" Mirabel's cheery voice hits them. All Street can do is look on as Chris lifts Mirabel up, and both end up giggling in a way that he would never expect from her. It's a nice sound, though, and calms him down as he sees Tomas also approaching.

"Hi, Poquito!" Mirabel's arms are tight around her neck, and she hugs her back just as tight. She plants a kiss on her cheek, and then turns for Mirabel to whisper something in her ear. Laughing, she looks back at Street, Mirabel turning her head, too.

"This is my new friend, Jim Street. We work together."

"With Uncle Luca?"

"You got it! Street is new, so I thought we could welcome him to the team over dinner. How does that sound?"

Mirabel nods, but buries her face into Chris's shoulder out of shyness. Street smiles small at both of them, walking around Chris's back so he can look Mirabel in the eye.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm Street. I heard you like motorbikes?"

His smile widens when her eyes do, and she gives him a toothy grin. He sees the similarities between her and Chris in their deep brown eyes, and tries to keep his emotions from flaring up.

"Well, I drive a motorcycle. Maybe later, we can look at it?"

He throws Chris an unsure look, and she shrugs, facing him now that Mirabel's sitting up.

"I don't see why not."

"Why not what?" A new voice interrupts them, and Chris rolls her eyes at Street like they have an inside joke. It warms him up, his gaze following hers to her other cousin's face.

"Why not mind your business." Chris laughs. "Street, this is my cousin, Tomas. Tomas, Jim Street."

"Nice to meet you," Tomas holds out his hand.

"You, too." Street shakes it, looking between him and Chris, who's already talking about the latest song Mirabel's learned how to play.

"You got the scratch-offs?" Tomas asks. Distracted, Street asks him what he said, and Tomas smiles easily.

"Chris, gimme Mir. If those two don't get their lotto tickets soon, they might explode."

"You can tell me more soon." She leaves one more kiss on Mirabel's cheek and then hands her over. They disappear into the sea of people and leave her and Street alone. He looks more relaxed than he did in her truck, but she nudges him with her elbow.

"You doing okay?"

"Yeah," he rushes to say, surprised when it's the truth. "It's just new to me. I think the last time I saw my cousin, I was like nine? My uncle and my mom hated each other, so my dad would make me stay home with her when he went to visit his brother."

Furrowing her brow, she doesn't let pity line her features because she knows that's the last thing he wants, but she hates that each new thing she learns about his childhood only makes it worse. Despite how irritating he's been on the job, she can't help the whirring feeling inside her to help him. She takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. But, I have about a million more where Tomas came from. By the time you meet all of them, you'll be sick of cousins, I promise."

"So, you're saying I'm going to meet the rest of the family?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Chris rolls her eyes, leaving him with a look that dares him to challenge her. It entrances him, only knocked from it when he starts to lose sight of her leather jacket and has to hurry to catch up. He stands awkwardly by the wooden picnic table as she relaxes into hugs from her Aunt and Uncle, and clears his throat when she finally looks back at him.

"Aunt Helena, Uncle Sarzo, this is Jim Street. He's new to 20-Squad."

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Alonso," he reaches out a hand. Sarzo's handshake is firm, but his smile takes any edge off, and Helena bypasses his hand all together to pull him into a hug instead. Her strength surprises him, Chris's laugh at his stumble floating behind him, but he wraps his arm around her and hopes she doesn't let go until he does.

"Oh, I almost forgot," he says, reaching into his pocket when he pulls back. "These are for you. Thanks for having me."

"Please, any friend of Chrissy's is welcome here, Jim. Thank you."

Chris is already searching in her wallet for two quarters, handing them over to their impatient hands. Before they can start to scratch them off, though, she's wrapping a hand around Street's forearm and pulling him in the direction of delicious-smelling air and low Spanish music.

"You're going to have to wait because I want to watch you lose, but I haven't eaten in like 8 hours."

She's grateful Street seems to have settled into himself by the time they're in line for food, and she leaves him to his thoughts while she hums to the music. Isabella catches sight of her through the small window, one eyebrow raising when she sees Street, and Chris shoots her a glare.

"Didn't think I'd see you, Chris! Who's this?"

"You know I wouldn't miss the truck. This is Jim, my coworker."

"Pleasure, Jim," Isabella reaches through the window to shake his hand. "What can I get for you two?"

Street defers to Chris, overwhelmed by the chalkboard menu and heat threatening to sear him as the wind blows it their direction. She squints at the menu to give it a quick once over, tapping her fingers on her crossed arms.

"Four fried chicken tacos, fully dressed with extra jalapeño on two. An order of fried pickles with the sauce on the side, please. Oh, and a coke and…"

She nudges him again, his attention focused on the pick-up soccer game happening in the empty street, and he gives her a shy smile.

"Uh, iced tea, please."

"You got it!"

Street reaches for his wallet, but he's cut off by Chris scoffing and telling him not to worry about it, at the same time that Isabella fixes Chris with the same determined look because she's got her card between her fingers. She rolls her eyes lightheartedly and murmurs something about not passing up free food, and the two step to the side to let the next person in line order.

"How long has she owned the truck?"

"Four years," Chris says, eyes shining through the periwinkle sunset. "She's a few years older than I am."

"You guys seem close."

"We are, we grew up together." She doesn't offer more information, and Street senses there's more there than normal childhood friends.

"More than I had," he murmurs, nasty memories threatening to claw through his stomach.

"Hey," Chris cuts him off, her voice sharp. "I'm sorry your childhood was shitty, but it's not a competition. The sooner you understand that we're all on the same team, the better."

She sounds more irritated than disappointed, and it dawns on him for the first time that being abrasive isn't going to work. Everything about her screams "I'm not going anywhere," and Street feels caught between wanting to take her hand and not let go, and seeing just where the edge of the envelope is.

Old habits and all.

"Right," he corrects himself, adequately embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"I get it." She shrugs, features again unbothered. He looks at her confused, feeling like she's playing a game he doesn't know about yet, but she smoothes it over like it's nothing. "There's a lot you don't know about me, too. And that's not an invitation to ask my family."

"Chrissy!" Isabella's voice rings out, cardboard boats full of food that make both of them salivate. She takes the tacos while he manages the pickles and their drinks, and she curbs when he reaches for napkins, knowing there's already a high pile on the table.

"Took you long enough," Sarzo teases. Helena smacks him playfully on the shoulder and waits for the two to get settled at the table. Their knees press together underneath the scratched and drawn-on wood, drinks sweating down and leaving dark rings.

"Okay, have at it."

Helena is lucky enough to win ten dollars, and Chris clocks Street's feigned disappointment for Sarzo. She waves off them trying to give her the quarters back, and Mirabel and Tomas join them just as she savors her first bite.

"So, Jim, where are you from?" Helena asks.

"Long Beach. I'm still looking for a place closer to HQ here."

"I've been a few times. And how did you get the job with SWAT?"

Chris wants to assure him that he doesn't have to answer the twenty questions, but it's as relaxed as he's looked since they've gotten here, even as she tenses. Sipping his tea, he side eyes her, contemplating how much to share considering what's happened.

"I know Buck." He keeps it short. "He recommended me to Hondo. I was at LBPD for years before."

"That's wonderful."

"Don't worry, he's getting the real training now." Chris teases. "Careful, that's—"

She's cut off by Street coughing after trying one of the last pickles with hot sauce. Gulping down his tea, light laughs float by as he recovers.

"Hot."

"Yeah," he pants. "I like spice, but that's a whole new level."

The streetlights turn on and she hands him a napkin to collect himself.

"You were right; these tacos are insane."

"Isabella's here pretty much every Friday." Tomas jumps in, smiling when Chris does.

"So I've heard, I'll definitely be back." He checks his watch and sighs. "But I should probably head out for the night. There's always an accident on the freeway."

He stands to collect all the trash, and spares a look at Chris with her family from the garbage can. They all seem so relaxed, so happy to be spending time with each other, and it's a newness he's only had a taste of, but he's addicted. She stands to meet him as he heads back.

"Mirabel wants to see your bike, if you're cool with it?"

Looking behind her, Mirabel is smiling shyly, and he feels like a little kid himself for a moment. He fishes his keys out of his pocket.

"Of course. C'mon, kiddo."

She squeals, thanking him as she takes off towards the truck with a chorus of shouts to "be careful!" following her. Chris opens the bed of her truck and clambers up, kicking up the kickstand.

He averts his gaze so she doesn't catch him staring, but that's a scene he knows will be playing behind his eyelids when he tries to sleep tonight.

"Tomas!" She yells, and waves him over. He starts to complain but she shoots him a look, so he silently joins Street on the pavement. "Just help him get it down."

Mirabel waits on the sidewalk until the bike is safely on the ground, and Street wants to hold out a hand for Chris to get down, but he realizes quick enough and feels the cool metal of her truck instead. She pops the hatch closed and turns to bring Mirabel closer, and then looks at him expectantly.

"This is it. My pride and joy." He grins at Mirabel, signaling for her to come around to his side, kneeling when she does.

"A lot of it is custom parts I've saved up for, and red has always been my favorite color."

"Where do you put stuff?"

"Well, there's a small spot under the seat," he revels in running his fingers over the leather when he opens it to show her, and catches Chris looking on with enough of a hint of pride to spark like a flint in his stomach. "But mostly, I use my backpack. Do you want to sit on it?"

"Yes!" She practically jumps, stopped only by his quick hands on her back, and Chris comes to the other side to help her on and hold her steady.

"You two, say cheese." Tomas catches them off guard. And then motions for Street to join them. "It's only right since it's your bike."

He's hesitant until he hears Chris's words from earlier play through his mind. Family is worth it. This, feeling more comfortable and wanted than he has in recent memory, is worth it. The loose gravel bites into his knees when he lowers himself in front of the bike, but he doesn't notice.

After the photo-op, he explains to her how the steering works, and laughs when she's too short to reach the petals.

"Give it a few years, I had to, also. Oh, and I can't forget. Chris, can you unlock your truck?"

She does without question, ignoring the heavy weight of adoration building itself up in her stomach at seeing who he really is: kind, and helpful, just lost. The realization is almost enough to steal her breath, her only saving grace the slam of her truck door. He emerges with a large black helmet that he hands to Mirabel.

"Number one, most important thing you need to ride, is a helmet. Any bike, not just a motorcycle. There's a lot of gear that over time—over a long time—you'll start to feel okay not using, but I want you to promise me that you'll never get on a bike without one of these bad boys?"

"Okay," Mirabel promises, her nine-year-old voice adorably stern, and then proud. "My bike helmet now is blue and pink."

"That sounds pretty. And if anyone ever wants to have you ride on their bike, but they don't have a second helmet, that's also a no. You get me?"

"I get you! Mama always says it's important to be safe." Her eyes flick to someone behind him, and in the midst of it all he didn't notice Helena and Sarzo join them at the curb. Helena throws him a wink, and he grins so wide, his dimples show.

"She's right. So keep practicing on your bike, and in a few years, I have no doubt you'll be ready to start looking into something higher speed."

He offers Mirabel a hand down, and almost falls backwards when she throws her arms around his neck.

"Thank you so much!" She smiles at him, though he's more focused on how Chris is smiling at her. He ruffles her hair and says she's very welcome, turning to the rest of her family.

"And thank you all, again. Really, I'm so glad for this. Hopefully I'll bring some better scratch-offs next time." Street jokes. He hangs onto the warmth from the final round of hugs and handshakes, and they go to say goodbye to Isabella, leaving him and Chris under the flickering streetlight.

"What do you think?" She asks, leaning against her truck with a knowing smirk. All the facade drains out of him.

"Can I give you a hug?"

She pushes the shock away as hard as it hits her, uncrossing her arms and stepping towards him. A sinking suspicion hits her that, whatever this is, it's only just beginning, and she finds she doesn't want to stop it.

It's a quick hug, neither wanting to cross any lines, but Street can feel the lines of her body even after she lets go. Nodding small, he grabs his helmet to give his hands something to do.

"Best family dinner I've ever had. Seriously, Chris, thank you. And for not giving up on me after these past few weeks."

"You're welcome. And I don't plan on it, neither does the rest of the team, so it'd make our lives a lot easier if you stopped banking on that"

"Got it," he laughs, pulling his helmet on but flicking the visor up to keep their eyes connected. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Six-thirty sharp, an extra ten push-ups for every minute you're late."

"Let me guess, Hondo's orders?"

"Family's worth it." Chris echoes. She leaves him with a smile and goes to start her own truck, and he watches her back until it's gone, and then turns to offer a final smile to her family.

For the first time, he thinks he might believe it.

hello! long time no see on this baby, oops. i hope you liked this one! it was super fun getting back into this work specifically, and to bring in the Alonsos (insert my spiel about how much i love them here). i do think they'd all immediately see right through the act Street tries to put on, and do everything in their power to make him feel welcomed. also- i'm very much on team scratch-offs, not scratchers, lol. let me know what you think! i promise i'll try not to wait like 5 months for another update. say hi on tumblr streakyglasses! xo, A