[A few months later]
Sweat poured down Jake's face as his sneakers pounded the cracked sidewalk of a narrow Brooklyn side street. His lungs burned like he'd swallowed hot coals, but he kept pushing because the guy they were chasing looked like he could outrun a taxi in rush hour.
"Freeze! NYPD!" Jake shouted, already half out of breath and fully committed to the chase.
Boyle puffed beside Jake, wheezing like an asthmatic accordion. "Why do they always skip leg day except this guy who clearly majored in it?"
Ray ran beside them, pace controlled, breathing even. He watched the suspect's shoulders, the foot placement, the slight hitch in his left knee that showed up every third step. 'Old injury.'
The suspect, a former college football linebacker named Marcus "The Tank" Reilly, had just bolted from a murder scene in Bed-Stuy after stabbing his ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend in a parking lot dispute. The man moved like he still heard crowd cheers in his head. Long strides ate up ground, arms pumping, shoulders wide enough to block traffic.
Jake sucked in air and yelled over his shoulder. "Boyle! Flank him left! He's heading for the alley!"
Charles Boyle, red-faced and huffing like a steam engine, veered toward the left curb. "On it, Jakey! I've got the angle! Nobody escapes the Boyle sprint!"
Ray followed them without wasting energy on yelling while running.
The three of them burst into the dead-end alley together. Brick walls rose on both sides, a chain-link fence blocked the far end, and a row of overflowing green dumpsters sat against one wall like rusty sentinels. There was no way out.
Reilly skidded to a stop, chest heaving, and spun around. His face twisted into a snarl when he saw the three detectives blocking his path. Sweat glistened on his shaved head. He cracked his knuckles once, sizing them up.
Jake planted his feet and pointed. "End of the line, Tank! Hands where we can see them! You're under arrest for murder!"
Reilly laughed, a deep rumble that echoed off the bricks. "You three? Come on. I played against linebackers twice your size in college. You really think you can take me?"
Boyle stepped forward, puffing out his chest. "We don't need to take you! We just need to cuff you! And I happen to be very good at cuffing!"
Ray simply sighed. "Give up, man. There is nowhere to run to."
Reilly's eyes narrowed. Then he lowered his shoulder like he was about to hit a tackling dummy and charged straight at them.
"Yepikkkkeee!" Jake screamed, which started bravely and ended in panic. "NYPD take him doooooown!"
"CHARGEEEE!!!" Boyle screamed.
Both of them ran forward at the exact same time with matching battle cries that echoed off the brick walls. It might have looked heroic from a distance.
They hit Reilly like two enthusiastic puppies running into a brick wall. The former football player barely slowed down. He lowered his shoulder and plowed straight through them. Jake flew left and landed headfirst in an open dumpster with a metallic clang and a shower of trash bags. Boyle went right, bounced off the wall, and ended up sprawled across the lid of another bin, legs dangling like he had decided to take a nap on top of garbage.
The brute charged again, aiming to bulldoze through the last obstacle in his path.
Ray pivoted at the last second, planted his foot, and drove a brutal right hook straight into the man's lower jaw. The crack echoed sharply against the brick walls. The suspect's head snapped sideways. His body stumbled two steps and slammed hard into the alley wall.
Brick dust rained down.
Reilly blinked twice like someone rebooting a computer. Then his knees folded and he slid down the wall into a stunned heap.
Ray grabbed the front of his shirt, hauled him up just enough, and spun him around. He pulled the handcuffs from his belt in one smooth motion and locked them around thick wrists with a metallic click that sounded final.
"You are under arrest," Ray said calmly. "For murder and assault of on-duty detectives..." Then he read his rights. Well, not that Reilly was in any situation to hear what Ray just said, thanks to the intense pain from his cracked jaw and he was basically seeing stars at that moment.
Jake rolled out of the dustbin, covered in gray powder and something that might have been spaghetti sauce. He pointed dramatically at the suspect. "You just got tackled by justice. And also punched by Ray, which is frankly worse."
Boyle climbed out of his dumpster, holding the ancient yogurt container between two fingers like it was evidence in a war crime. "Urrgh! I need a bath and next time, maybe we let Ray go first. My back is telling me it has opinions about tackling linebackers."
"Well, look at the bright side," Jake said, dusting his hair. "We bagged ourselves a human cheetah."
Ray allowed himself a small smirk as he guided the suspect past them. "Noted. Now let's get this guy to the precinct before he decides to wake up and try round two."
The three of them walked out of the alley together, Jake and Boyle limping slightly on either side of Ray and the cuffed suspect. Sirens wailed closer as backup rolled up. Somewhere behind them, a seagull landed on the dumpster and started rummaging through Jake's handiwork.
...
[Nine Nine]
The elevator doors slid open and the smell hit the bullpen like a chemical attack.
Terry took one step forward, inhaled by accident, and physically recoiled like someone had slapped him with a fish. "Oh no. Absolutely not. Why do you smell like a compost festival in August?"
Jake stepped out proudly, covered in gray dust and mystery sauce. "Victory. That is the smell of victory and possibly expired marinara."
Boyle limped out behind him, holding his lower back. "It is not marinara. I am pretty sure it was a yogurt-based sauce."
Everyone looked at Boyle because it looked like he tasted whatever shit was in the garbage.
"That's really disgusting, Boyle," Jake said, shaking his head.
"I know, it went into my mouth while I was screaming. I couldn't help it," Boyle confessed with quick nods.
Amy froze mid-step with a stack of files in her hands. Her eyes went wide. "Why do you both look like you crawled through a landfill during a heat wave?"
Jake pointed at the cuffed giant between him and Ray. "Because that absolute fridge with legs decided to reenact his college highlight reel."
Terry stepped closer to the suspect and then glanced at Ray. "You hit him."
Ray shrugged lightly. "He ran into my fist."
Reilly tried to speak. What came out sounded like someone gargling gravel. His tough guy energy was gone. Now he looked like a very large man who regretted several life choices.
Ray tightened his grip slightly on the man's arm. "Save it for booking."
Rosa leaned back in her chair, boots up on her desk. She looked Jake up and down slowly. "You smell like regret and raccoon tears."
Jake grinned. "Jealous because I went dumpster diving without you?"
Rosa did not blink. "If I ever jump into a dumpster, it will be to hide a body."
Ray looked at Rosa and said, "That's really dark, Rosa."
She simply smirked.
Boyle perked up slightly. "See, that is teamwork language."
Elle stepped out of Holt's office at that moment with a folder tucked under her arm. She stopped when she saw the scene. Her nose wrinkled hard. "Wow. I could smell you from inside the Captain's office."
Jake placed a hand over his heart. "Elle. I got tackled for justice today. I deserve some compassion."
She looked him over carefully. "Nope. Not with that gross stench. Get a shower, you two."
Terry pointed toward the holding cells. "Lock him up first. Then both of you are going straight to the locker room. I am not letting that smell soak into the precinct."
Jake gasped. "You wound me, Sergeant."
"You are already wounded," Amy said, staring at the dried sauce in his hair. "Also, that might be mold."
Ray took the killer toward the cells while Jake and Boyle hobbled behind him like defeated gladiators. The bullpen parted around them.
A few uniforms actually gagged.
Boyle leaned toward Jake. "Do you think this is how warriors smelled after battle in ancient times?"
Jake nodded seriously. "Yes. Exactly like this. Heroic and lightly fermented."
Boyle pointed a finger at Jake, "Heroic and lightly fermented- Title of your sextape."
They processed Reilly without much drama. The big man sat quietly now, holding his jaw while Ray finished paperwork. Jake kept trying to sit and was told three separate times to stand up because his clothes were leaving marks on the chairs.
Once the suspect was secured, Terry clapped his hands once. "Locker room. Now."
Jake saluted weakly. "Yes, sir. We will cleanse ourselves in the sacred showers of justice."
Amy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please use actual soap. And a lot of it."
As Jake and Boyle shuffled off toward the back, the bullpen slowly returned to normal.
Elle stepped closer to Ray and lowered her voice slightly. "Nice punch."
Ray gave a small nod. "He led with his chin."
She studied him for a second, catching the faint edge still hiding behind his calm expression. "So, how was your first day as a detective?"
He met her eyes evenly. "It was really good."
Across the room, Jake's voice echoed from the locker area.
"BOYLE. WHY IS THE WATER BROWN?"
A loud splash followed.
Rosa did not look up from her paperwork. "Because karma is real."
Terry sighed deeply and muttered something about hazard pay.
---
[Noon]
Most of the squad had scattered for lunch or court appearances, leaving the locker room empty.
Rosa had Ray backed against the row of lockers, her hands moved under his shirt while she kissed him hard enough to bruise. He kissed back just as roughly, one hand tangled in her dark hair, the other sliding down her side to grip her hip and pull her closer.
She broke the kiss long enough to mutter against his mouth. "We still haven't decided where we're going Friday night. You keep dodging the question."
Ray dragged his lips along her jaw. "Because every time I suggest something, you say it sounds boring."
Rosa nipped at his earlobe. "Dinner and a movie is boring. I want something with edge. Maybe that underground fight club in Bushwick. Or the speakeasy with the password door."
He let out a low laugh that vibrated against her neck. "You want to watch strangers punch each other or drink cocktails in the dark?"
"Both," she said, and shoved him backward onto the long wooden bench in the middle of the room.
Ray hit the bench with a soft thud and looked up at her with a half-smirk. Rosa climbed on top immediately, straddling his lap, knees bracketing his hips. She leaned down and captured his mouth again, deeper this time, rolling her hips once just to hear the rough sound he made in the back of his throat.
His hands moved up her thighs, thumbs pressing into the seam of her jeans while she ground down against him. She pulled back slightly, breathing heavy. "Fight club. Final offer."
Ray's fingers tightened on her hips. "Only if you promise to wear the butt plug during the entire date."
"Kinky," Rosa grinned against his lips. "Deal."
She kissed him again, slower now, savoring it, one hand sliding under his shirt to feel the warm skin of his stomach.
The door swung open without warning.
Elle stepped inside, phone in one hand.
She froze three steps in.
Rosa and Ray stopped moving instantly. Rosa's mouth was still inches from his, her hand still under his shirt, his fingers still dug into her thighs.
For one long second, nobody spoke.
Elle blinked once, twice, then turned on her heel so fast her boots squeaked on the tile. "I'll leave you two alone. Continue."
The door clicked shut behind her.
Rosa stayed exactly where she was for another beat, then slowly leaned back and looked down at Ray. Her expression was calm, almost amused.
"Your ex-fiancée looks jealous," she said with a small kiss.
Ray exhaled through his nose and let his head drop back against the bench. "She does not look jealous. She looks like she just walked in on her parents making out."
Rosa raised one eyebrow. "Same difference."
He slid his hands up to her waist and gave her a light squeeze. "You enjoyed that way too much."
"Maybe a little." She leaned down and kissed him once more, quick and teasing.
"Ah! I almost forgot to ask," Ray said, shifting his body up a bit. "You girls and Emma have been going out a lot lately. And she even said she'd text me after talking to you all, but never did. We met a couple of times and she never brought up the topic. So..."
Rosa smirked. "You want to know if she is in, don't you?"
Ray nodded. "Yeah."
Rosa got up and stood on the bench, looking down at him. "Well, that's a surprise." She jumped down on the floor as he sat up.
"C'mon, spill it."
Rosa simply winked before walking out.
"Haaa... Women..." Ray sighed.
---