Brandon "Mouse" McHolland (for @highclasstrashposts, who did most of this worldbuilding, honestly)
In the summer of 1985, a basket was left in front of Firehouse 51. Inside, there was a baby, and a blanket, and a note pinned to the fleece. There was no explanation, no number to call, no indication that whoever had left him there would return.
take care of Brandon for me
There weren't many people to take care of him - between Herrmann's new marriage and Boden's crumbling one, the number of homes he could go to was slim. But it would be worse if he was put into the system, being passed from one foster home to another without any kind of stability. If they wanted to follow the single instruction left in the note, and take care of the child that was left in their care, he needed a good life, someone constant in it, a support system he could always rely on no matter where life took him.
So, even if Mouch was the one who took him in, gave him food and a roof, it really did take a village to raise a child. While his name legally became Brandon McHolland, he had an entire firehouse to call family. He had uncles and cousins, even if none of them were related to him by blood. He had as many people to go to for advice as he could imagine, and plenty of space to roam around the firehouse when he started walking and saying more than babbled syllables.
When he still had trouble repeating a few names he heard around the firehouse, with the ch coming out closer to sh, he got his own silly nickname that wasn't far off from his adopted father's. By the time his age reached double digits, he answered to Mouse more than he answered to Brandon, and he almost preferred it that way. Even if they weren't family biologically, having a name, no matter how silly, that could be easily mistaken for another felt important to him. It gave him a connection to the most important person in his life beyond the same address and last name.
"No one cares more about abandoned babies than me."
[ request a moodboard ]
