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.


THE DETECTIVE AND MRS. RILEY

Meat Me in St. Louis


Timeline
Queensbridge Park
• Elena Cassidy's Home for Retired Assassins (ch 3)
• Fusco Meets the Rileys (ch 4)
• Little Mistress Normal (ch 5)
• Drinks (ch 10)
• Detective Darkness and Little Miss Sunshine (ch 12)
• Bear's Collection (ch 2)
• Home Safe Home (ch 9)
• Hell in the Hamptons (ch 13-16)
• Risque Business (ch 20)
• Detective Cassidy (ch 21)
• Bets on Broadway (ch 11)
• Toast (ch 19)
• Nickname (ch 22)
• Swingers Cruise (ch 6)
• Knockout (ch 8)
• Ellie with the Pink Hair (ch 18)
• Queen E (ch 1)
• Toxic (ch 17)
• Get to the Chopper! (ch 7)
MEAT ME IN ST. LOUIS
Queensbridge Park epilogue

Episode inspo:
ROOT: Time to go.
SHAW: Where to?
ROOT: St. Louis.
SHAW: Oh, great. I know a steak joint that serves a filet that's better than sex.
Death Benefit (s3e20)


Somehow, their latest Number had ended up in St. Louis, so they ended up there, too.

And as usual, Shaw was hungry after the mission, so she took them to a steak joint she knew.

"Oh, you're right, Sameen. This filet mignon is better than sex —"

Reese looks up sharply.

"Better than, uh, sex ... on a beach," Elena finishes. "You know, it's really itchy, with all the sand —"

Reese's expression could freeze water. "We've never had sex on a beach, Elena."

"Oh! I ... um ... I mean, so I've heard ..."

Reese looks Very Pissed Off, and Shaw is loving every minute of it.

"Wow, Pixie, you're a real freak, huh?" Shaw says. "Mile High Club, on a beach, back of a police car —"

"What?" Reese interjects sharply.

"That was just second base," Elena hastens to explain. She frowns. "Or was it shortstop ...?"

"Oh, that makes it better," Reese snaps.

"Come on, John, I'm sure you, Mr. International Spy Man, have seduced your marks in some very interesting places."

"I'm not discussing my past partners," Reese grits out.

"Oh my God, you haven't, have you, Boy Scout?" Shaw realizes.

"Shut it, Shaw."

"You've never done it any place that's not a bed with the lights off!"

"Of course he has!" Elena comes to John's defense. "The interrogation room at the Eighth, backstage at that Broadway show, the back of the Prius -"

"Elena!" Reese hisses.

Shaw looks mildly impressed at the list. "Not bad." She frowns. "Wait, how'd you do it in the back of the Prius?"

"Well, Sameen, when two people like each other very much —"

Shaw flicks a fry at Elena's face. "No, I mean, like logistically, how'd that tall ass fit back there?"

Reese's cheeks are bright pink, which completely undermines the glare he's giving Shaw. "What, you want a diagram?" he asks sarcastically.

"Actually —"

Elena's already scribbling on a napkin. "So, he was like this, and I —"

"Elena!" Reese grabs the napkin and stuffs it into a pocket. "We are not discussing this with Shaw over dinner. Or ever," he adds.

Later, Elena mouths a promise to Sameen, who merely smirks and turns her attention back to her steak.


"Any other interesting places you've had sex you want to tell me about?" Reese sulks as they get ready for a few hours' sleep before they head back to New York in the morning.

Elena gives him an impish grin. "I don't have to tell you about them, John. You were there with me. The breakfast nook, the public library — oh, I should've told Sameen about that time at 1PP ..."

"I'd prefer if you didn't entertain Shaw with details of our ..."

"Sexcapades?" Elena suggests.

"Trysts," he says primly.

Elena laughs affectionately — God, he's such a Boy Scout! — and opens her arms invitingly toward him. He eyes her warily.

"You sure a bed with the lights off isn't too boring for you?"

"It's not really about the location, but the company," she says airily. "And you, sir, are excellent company."

He holds out for a whole three seconds longer before he gives in and goes to her, letting her pull him down onto the bed with her.

"You know," she muses, twining her arms around his neck, "I've never had sex in St. Louis before, and St. Louis is an interesting place, don't you think?"

"Very interesting," he agrees, beginning to remove his suit with great determination.

"What's that look for?" Elena asks, a thrill running through her.

"It seems I've got my work cut out for me. I don't like being compared to an overrated, overpriced dish at a Midwestern steakhouse, and coming up short, El."

"Oh, there's nothing short about you, John."

He tries to maintain the determined look, but the blush that rises to the beautiful planes of his cheeks make him look more adorable than dangerous. She can't help but kiss him. He deepens the kiss for a few moments before pulling away.

"Stop distracting me while I'm trying to seduce you, Mrs. Riley."

"Why don't you stop trying and start doing, Detective?" she counters.

John Reese was always really good about carrying out orders. He grins and salutes. "Yes, ma'am."


"Well done," Elena compliments breathlessly a while later. "Three Michelin stars."

"Just three?"

"That's the highest number you can get, John."

He looms above her, looking very pleased with himself. "But, El, that was just an appetizer. Time for the main course. If you can handle it."

"Oh, I can handle it," she assures him. "And still have room for dessert — if you're up for it."

There are advantages, Elena muses hazily much, much later, to having a husband who not only likes a challenge but is also an overachiever and a bit of a showoff.