Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team for these lovely characters (though Elena is mine). Any bolded sections come straight from the episodes.
DETECTIVE AND MRS. RILEY
Queen E
Timeline
• Queensbridge Park (minus the epilogue)
• QUEEN E
• Queensbridge Park epilogue
Episode inspo
JORDAN HESTER (the Number): Harold? You all right?
FINCH: I believe you've drugged me.
JORDAN: Ecstasy. I told you you'd feel better.
FINCH: My dopamine and norepinephrine levels are [whistles]. But if I understand this process, I can counter the eff... Oh, WOW.
— from Identity Crisis (s1e18)
Song suggestion: "Hot in Herre" by Nelly
"Hey, Cassidy, you think you can still pass as a college student?"
Elena looks at herself critically in the mirror. She'd been trying to look her age, or a little older, since it seems to bother John that the station's rookies tend to ... gravitate toward her whenever she stops by. It had become a hazing prank at the 8th Precinct, seeing how long a rookie lasted chatting up Mrs. Riley before her husband showed up and scared the rookie off.
Whenever that happens, she points out to John that the entire female population of New York City tends to gravitate toward him, but that doesn't mean she goes around terrorizing every woman who looks his way.
"Okay, I was just being polite. Cassidy, you can totally still pass as a college student."
"You being polite, Sameen? What's this about, a new Number?"
"College student who's attending a rave tonight."
Elena frowns. "Thirty-one seems a bit old to be attending my first rave."
"Age is just a number, Cassidy."
Twelve hours later
"It's sooo hot," Elena complains. "I'm sooo hot, Sameen."
Shaw's lips twitch. "Yeah, you're real hot, Cassidy."
Elena bats her eyelashes. "So are you!"
Shaw gives in and grins. "Oh boy, Reese's going to have his hands full tonight, isn't he, Pixie? Hey, what are you doing?"
She grabs Elena's arms and wrestles her back onto the bed when she begins to take off her shirt.
And so Reese walks in on Shaw straddling his half-dressed wife on their bed.
He stops short in the doorway.
"Oh thank God," Shaw mutters, abandoning Elena and walking out the door. "She is all yours."
"I'm sooo hot," Elena complains from the confines of her shirt, which is trapped around her head.
Deciding Elena will keep for a moment, Reese follows Shaw into the hallway. "What happened?"
"Ever wanted to see what Little Miss Normal's like on recreational drugs? Now's your chance."
Reese blinks. "What?"
"She had to take a little ecstasy to keep her cover. I don't think she even took a full hit, but I guess that's what happens when the strongest thing she's ever had is that fruity beer she likes. Don't worry, Reese. I made her drink like a gallon of water. It should pass out of her system soon." Shaw winks. "She's a little frisky, though."
Reese glares. "Shaw."
"I know you won't take advantage of your wife, Boy Scout. But she might take advantage of you. If you hadn't come home just now, I don't know what she might've done to me —"
Reese shuts their bedroom door in Shaw's face.
Elena still hasn't figured out how to remove her shirt. Taking pity on her, he reaches over and pulls it off her head. Which is a mistake since it leaves Elena in her bra looking up at him with tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and impossibly wide eyes.
"John!" she exclaims brightly, eyes lighting up with joy at the sight of him. "Where did you come from?"
It's one of the rare times the simplest answer is actually the truth. "Work."
"Me too!" She grabs one of his hands with both of hers and pulls him down on the bed next to her. "I had SO much fun at work today."
He rubs his face to hide the grin growing there. "Yeah, it looks like it."
"I tried ecstasy for the first time," she confesses to him solemnly. "I like it," she whispers.
"You shouldn't do drugs, El," he manages to say. "They teach you that in school."
"School! That's where I went today and had E." Realization dawns on her face. "Queen E. Oh my God, Lionel knows. He's going to arrest me!"
"Hey, I'm a cop, too," he reminds her, affronted.
"You're not a real cop, John," she rolls her eyes, and her whole head rolls too, so he reaches out to keep her from falling off the bed.
He frowns. "Are you feeling all right, Elena? You feel warm."
"I'm so hot," she says. And the sultry tone should have been a clue where she is going with this, but he is too busy trying to measure her pulse to make sure it's not too rapid.
She rises up on her knees on the bed and begins toying with the buttons of his shirt. "Aren't you hot, John?" she asks. "Silly question. You are hot, John."
"Thank you."
"And that's the thing, you know it."
She manages to straddle him. He grunts as she accidentally knees his thigh, dangerously close to a more delicate part of his anatomy. His hands go to her waist to keep her from toppling off the side of the bed.
"Ah, El, this is not a great idea right now," he says ruefully.
She is nothing if not persistent. She manages to figure out how buttons work and has his shirt half undone.
"Elena."
He grabs her hands to still them.
She puts her lips on his to still them.
He allows the kiss to go on longer than he should — after all, he's a Boy Scout, not a saint. When he feels things start to get out of control, he pulls away.
Which is a mistake since it leaves Elena in her bra looking down at him with tousled hair, flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and impossibly wide eyes.
"I'm tired," he lies. "Can we rest for a bit?"
Elena bites her lip in thought, and Reese suppresses a groan. He deserves sainthood for this.
Since John never asks for anything, Elena agrees, albeit reluctantly. John half-dressed in his shirtsleeves with his hair messed up is a hard thing to peel herself away from. Especially when he undoes the remaining buttons of his shirt and removes it, leaving him in his undershirt.
He wraps his shirt around her instead, guiding her arms into the sleeves, which are much too long for her.
"I know you're hot," he says seriously as he buttons up the front for her. "This is for when you get cold later."
She nods as she stretches out on her stomach, pillowing her head on her arms. Now that John had mentioned being tired, she's feeling kind of sleepy herself.
She watches as John lays down beside her on his back, hands folded across his stomach like he's auditioning for a funeral home. She doesn't understand how he can sleep like that. But it's always been a source of amusement for him that despite her being nearly a foot shorter than him, she always manages to take up more space on the bed.
"John?"
He opens one eye. "Yeah?"
She's staring at him with those big eyes, pupils still blown. Oh God, she's pouting.
"You said you'd never lie to me."
Reese winces. Even high on MDMA, Elena can see right through him.
"I'm not tired," he admits. "But aren't you?"
She thinks about it. "Yeah, I s'pose," she shrugs, then suppresses a yawn.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lied."
"'S all right," she answers, eyes already closed. "It's easy to forgive you."
He turns to look at her. "Why's that?"
"'Cuz you're so hot."
When Reese walks into the kitchen the next morning, Shaw is sitting on the counter, drinking straight from the box of orange juice.
"You disappoint me, Boy Scout," she says, tossing a treat to Bear, who leaps to catch it. "Little Mrs. was all keyed up to jump you, and you went to sleep?"
"She went to sleep," Reese points out as he begins preparing breakfast. "And you know better than to listen behind closed doors, Shaw."
"You shouldn't rent out your basement to a spy then."
"Rent?" Reese scoffs.
"Well, I figured saving both your lives gave me at least the first two years free."
Reese considers. "Does seem like a fair trade." He gives her a side glance. "Thanks for taking care of Elena last night."
"I left the easy part for you. You're the one who didn't 'take care' of her."
"Shaw. When I want marriage advice from you, you'll know it. Because I'll be dead."
"I thought you already were."
"Please just kill each other — and me too."
They look up as Elena staggers into the kitchen.
"Good morning, honey," Reese greets, and she can hear the smile in his voice. She can't see it on his face because she can't open her eyes.
"I am not doing that ever again," Elena swears, sitting down at the counter, and then putting her head down on the counter.
"Looks like thirty-one is too old to be attending your first rave," Shaw observes.
"Mphgrrr," Elena groans.
She doesn't move until Reese sets down a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. She lifts her head a fraction of an inch and eyes the breakfast food warily.
Shaw smirks. "You're gorgeous, Cheerios. I don't know how the Big Lug resisted that last night."
"Eat up, El, you'll feel better." Reese swats Shaw's hand with the spatula as she reaches for a strip of Elena's bacon, and he places a plate of her own in front of her. "Coffee's almost ready —"
"Good, I'm just in time."
Fusco simply raises his eyebrows at the guns Reese and Shaw pull out of ... somewhere, and point toward the kitchen door, where he's standing. "Good morning to you, too," he snarks, holding up a box of doughnuts. "These already have holes in them, but you're welcome to give them a few more."
"We really should start charging rent here, Elena."
"Mphgrrr," she groans.
"What's wrong with her?" Fusco asks as Reese hands him a plate.
"She's just having a rough morning," Reese says with a fond look at her as she begins to tentatively nibble on some bacon.
Fusco raises his eyebrows. "Like morning sickness rough?"
"No," Reese, Elena, and Shaw say in unison.
"Okay, geez. You two are married. It's not the craziest question."
"Elena had ecstasy last night."
Fusco gives him an unimpressed look. "You think a lot of yourself, partner —"
"The drug, Lionel."
"Oh. Really? So E doesn't agree with Queen E. That's ironic."
Shaw smiles into her mug. "Oh, actually, it really agreed with her last night."
Elena thinks if this hangover doesn't kill her, the embarrassment surely will.
"I'm so —"
"Hot?" Shaw and Reese suggest.
No, Elena's so going to kill them once she can open her eyes.