Disclaimer:
This fanfiction is a work of fiction created for entertainment purposes only. It is based on the characters and setting of The Rookie, which is the property of its respective creators and owners. The events and interactions depicted in this story are entirely fictional and not part of the official storyline.

Additionally, this fanfiction was crafted with assistance from ChatGPT, an AI language model developed by OpenAI, which helped refine the plot, dialogue, and humor.

The bullpen buzzed with its usual energy—phones ringing, officers typing up reports, and the occasional burst of laughter as someone cracked a joke. John Nolan sat at his desk, flipping through paperwork, his pen tapping absentmindedly against the edge of his clipboard.

"Hey, John!"

He looked up to see Gary Miller approaching, a friendly smile plastered across his face. Gary was one of those guys who always seemed eager to chat, and while Nolan appreciated his enthusiasm, he had to admit it could be a little overwhelming at times.

"What's up, Gary?" Nolan asked, setting his pen down.

Gary stopped at his desk, leaning against the edge. "Got a minute?"

"For you? Always," Nolan replied with a grin.

Gary chuckled nervously. "Well, uh, I've been thinking a lot about the union lately. You know, ever since you took on the rep role, I've been impressed with how you've been handling things. The wellness initiatives, the open-door policy—it's all really inspiring."

Nolan tilted his head, curious. "Thanks, Gary. I appreciate that. But I'm guessing you didn't come over just to flatter me."

Gary laughed, a little too loud, then quickly cleared his throat. "Right, right. Uh, I've actually got a few ideas I think could help out, you know, make things even better for everyone."

"Great! I'm always open to ideas," Nolan said, leaning back in his chair.

Gary hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. "Yeah, and, uh, I thought it'd be easier to talk about them somewhere... quieter. Like, I don't know, over dinner?"

Nolan raised an eyebrow. "Dinner, huh?"

"Yeah," Gary said quickly. "There's this great Italian place—La Luna Bistro. It's got good food, a relaxed vibe. Perfect for brainstorming."

Nolan nodded, smiling. "That actually sounds nice. I could use a change of scenery after all this." He gestured to the pile of paperwork on his desk.

Gary's smile widened, almost too much. "Awesome! How about tonight? Seven o'clock?"

"Sure," Nolan said, jotting down a reminder on his phone. "I'm always happy to hear fresh ideas. See you there."

Gary clapped his hands together, looking more excited than Nolan had expected. "Great. See you tonight, John."

As Gary walked away, Nolan went back to his paperwork, his mind already shifting to other matters. If he'd noticed the slightly nervous way Gary had lingered after their conversation, or the subtle flush in his cheeks, he didn't show it.

Later that night, Nolan strolled into "La Luna Bistro," the warm glow of string lights reflecting off the glossy wooden tables. The scent of garlic, basil, and fresh bread hung in the air, wrapping him in a cozy, welcoming atmosphere.

He immediately spotted Gary near a window table, where soft candlelight flickered against the glass. As Nolan approached, he noticed the table was set with a bottle of red wine and a single rose in a vase.

"Huh," Nolan muttered to himself, briefly wondering if this was just La Luna's standard setup or something more deliberate.

Gary stood, smiling brightly. "John! You made it!"

"Of course," Nolan said, shaking Gary's hand before sitting down. "This place is... fancy."

Gary laughed, a little too nervously. "Yeah, I thought it'd be nice. You deserve a break, you know?" Thanks for making the time," Gary replied. His voice was friendly but carried a nervous undertone Nolan didn't quite register.

Before Nolan could respond, the server appeared with menus. "Good evening, gentlemen. Can I start you off with something to drink? Maybe a cocktail or one of our house specials?"

Gary glanced at Nolan, then back at the server. "We'll have a bottle of the Pinot Noir. It pairs beautifully with the menu."

Nolan blinked. "Uh, sure. Sounds good."

"I hope you don't mind," Gary said. "I took the liberty of ordering a few appetizers. They're some of my favorites here."

"Not at all," Nolan said with a chuckle. "You're making this easy for me."

As the server walked away, Nolan leaned forward. "So, let's dive into these ideas. What's been on your mind?"

"I've been thinking about organizing wellness workshops," Gary said. "Stuff like stress management, physical therapy for on-the-job injuries, even financial planning seminars."

"That's a great idea," Nolan said, pulling out his phone to take notes. "People don't realize how much those little things can improve morale."

Minutes later, a plate of bruschetta arrived, the bread golden and crisp, piled high with ripe tomatoes and fragrant basil. Gary pushed the plate toward Nolan, his fingers brushing the edge just long enough for Nolan to notice.

"Try this," Gary said warmly. "You'll love it."

"Thanks," Nolan said, picking up a piece. "This place really does things right. We should recommend it for precinct events."

Gary chuckled, but his tone was softer. "It's nice to have good food and good company."

Nolan, busy crunching into his bruschetta, didn't catch the subtle shift in Gary's voice.

Gary leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "It's what I admire about you, John. You're so... open to listening, to making things better for everyone."

Nolan smiled, thinking the compliment was purely professional. "Well, that's kind of the job, right? Representing people means you've got to hear them out."

Their entrees arrived—a perfectly seared salmon for Nolan and a creamy mushroom risotto for Gary. They talked more about Gary's ideas, though Gary occasionally steered the conversation in a more personal direction.

"So, what made you decide to run for union rep in the first place?" Gary asked, twirling his fork through his risotto.

Nolan shrugged, swallowing a bite of salmon. "I guess I wanted to make a difference, you know? Help people feel like they have someone in their corner."

Gary smiled, his eyes lingering on Nolan for a beat too long. "You're good at that. It's one of the things I've always admired about you. Being union rep can't be easy, but you make it look effortless."

Nolan blinked, sensing a faint edge to Gary's tone but brushing it off. "Uh, thanks. That means a lot." "It's definitely a team effort. And I have a great support system at home, which helps."

Gary's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered. "That's great. Really great."

The appetizers arrived—bruschetta and calamari. Gary nudged the bruschetta plate toward Nolan. "Try this. It's my favorite."

"Thanks," Nolan said, taking a piece. He bit into it, the crunch of the bread echoing just as Gary started to talk again.

"You know, John," Gary said, his tone suddenly softer, "you're a really inspiring guy. Not just professionally, but personally too."

Nolan froze mid-chew, unsure how to respond. "Uh, wow. Thanks. That's... nice of you to say."

Gary leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with Nolan's. "I just think it's rare to find someone who's so dedicated and kind. It's refreshing."

Nolan shifted in his seat, starting to feel a little warm under the collar. "Well, I, uh, just try to do my best."

As the entrees arrived, Nolan threw himself into the food, hoping to steer the conversation back to safer ground. But Gary's compliments kept coming—subtle, yet persistent.

When the single tiramisu arrived with two spoons, Nolan blinked at it. "Uh, sharing dessert? That's new for me."

Gary laughed. "It's the best part of the meal. Besides, it's always better to share with someone you enjoy being around."

It was then that the penny finally dropped. Nolan sat back in his chair, staring at Gary with dawning realization. Oh no. Am I... on a date?

He cleared his throat. "You know, this has been really... enlightening. But I just realized I need to head home soon. Bailey's waiting up for me."

Gary's expression fell slightly, but he covered it with a polite smile. "Of course. Thanks for meeting with me, John. It's been... nice."

As Nolan walked out of the restaurant, he muttered under his breath, "I really hope I didn't just break that poor guy's heart."

Later that night, Nolan walked into the house he shared with Bailey, still replaying the evening in his head. She was lounging on the couch, a glass of wine in hand, looking blissfully relaxed.

"Hey, how was your meeting?" she asked, smiling up at him.

He dropped his keys on the counter with a dramatic sigh. "Bailey, have you ever been on a date without knowing it?"

Her brow furrowed, and she set her glass down. "What? No. That's not a thing, John."

"Oh, it's a thing," he muttered, flopping onto the couch beside her.

"Wait—are you telling me you went on a date and didn't realize it?" she asked, eyes wide with amusement.

"Pretty sure," Nolan replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "There were clues—compliments, sharing dessert, that weird vibe—but I didn't put it all together until dessert arrived. Gary even ordered tiramisu for us to share."

Bailey blinked at him, then burst out laughing. "Oh my God, John. You're like a walking rom-com, but with fewer clues and more awkward pauses."

"I don't understand how this happened," Nolan said, throwing his hands up. "I dropped hints I wasn't single!"

Bailey arched an eyebrow. "Hints? Like what? Did you accidentally flash a photo of me on your phone while looking up union policies?"

"Well, no," Nolan admitted. "But I mentioned how lucky I was to have a support system at home! That's pretty obvious, right?"

Bailey snorted, biting her lip to suppress a laugh. "John, come on. Saying you have a 'support system' doesn't scream 'girlfriend.' That could mean your parents, your cat, or even your favorite takeout guy who knows your order by heart."

Nolan frowned, clearly frustrated. "Fine, but I also said I couldn't stay too late because someone was waiting for me at home. That has to mean a partner."

Bailey's grin widened. "Really? That could mean a roommate. Or a needy plant. For all Gary knew, you've got a goldfish at home that gets separation anxiety."

"A goldfish?" Nolan asked, incredulous. "Why would he think I'd rush home for a goldfish?"

"Hey, I don't know your life," she teased, shrugging with mock seriousness. "Maybe you're very attached to Mr. Bubbles."

Nolan groaned, covering his face with his hands. "So, you're saying I wasn't clear enough. Great."

"Crystal clear," Bailey said, laughing again. "And honestly, some people wouldn't care even if you were taken. They might think you're, I don't know, open to negotiation."

"Negotiation?!" Nolan exclaimed, lowering his hands to give her an incredulous look. "I was not sending negotiable vibes."

"Oh, John," Bailey said, patting his knee as if comforting a lost puppy. "You're adorable. But let's face it—you could probably walk into a room wearing a shirt that says, 'I love my girlfriend,' and still somehow end up on a date with someone else."

He gave her a mock glare. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny," she countered, holding back another laugh.

Nolan sighed dramatically. "Next time, I'm starting every conversation with, 'Hi, I have an amazing girlfriend, her name is Bailey, and she knows karate.'"

"I don't know karate," Bailey said with a smirk.

"Doesn't matter," he replied. "It's the intimidation factor."

She burst out laughing, leaning over to kiss him. "You're lucky you're so lovable. Poor Gary probably thinks you were playing hard to get."

Nolan groaned again, leaning back on the couch. "This is why I stick to union meetings. No dessert sharing. No mixed signals."

Bailey grinned mischievously. "Oh, John. Next time you're meeting someone, maybe just call me and I'll tag along as your 'support system.'"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Lesson learned. From now on, you're my official plus-one for all union-related dinners."

Bailey laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine, and Nolan couldn't help but smile, grateful that even his most embarrassing moments could be turned into something to laugh about together.