❛ Someone To Call My Lover ❜
★ ₊˚. ❪ the rookie ❫
riley ┊ chp. one┊❝ 1.01 ❞
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RILEY MOON — SMITTY was sprawled across his bed, Angela tucked into his side. He leaned his head down, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead. They were just too cute together. It was perfect.

"You don't wanna be late, my love." Riley shuffled so he was above her, one hand near her head and the other by her shoulders. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her cheek this time. "Sargent Grey will have that pretty little head of yours."

Angela chuckled, shaking her head but smiling up at Riley. "You know he would, huh?" Her voice was playful, fun.

"He would, especially since you get a rookie today." Riley leaned down, placing a kiss on the small spot of her neck that was peaking out from her t-shirt — from her t-shirt that she had so kindly taken from him. "Who do you think you'll get, love."

"Probably the old one." Angela admitted, "Grey told us briefly about them, but never said who was training who."

Riley playful dropped down, letting his body weigh down on hers. She giggled and squirmed beneath him. "Gravity. It's just weighing me down, love. I have no idea what I'll do."

When Angela finally managed to push Riley off her, her phone buzzed beside her and her last alarm of the morning went off — the one that was telling her that it was a mistake sleeping in and she had half an hour to get ready and make it to the station before she maybe was fired.

"Oh no! I'm gonna be late. Riley, babe!" Angela scrambled from the bed, tripping over the pile of dirty clothes.

Riley let out a laugh as he crawled out of his bed and followed behind Angela. "Okay, okay! Operation get Lopez out of the house, starting now."

In a literal blur of clothes flying across the room, and the yelling of coffee being spilt, the couple had less than ten minutes to hit the road.

"Coffee?" Riley was holding it in his hand, grinning at the small idea that always prefect Angela would be late. "Love?"

"Don't have time!" Angela shouted as she tried to fix her belt before she ultimately just pulled it off and threw it aside. "Love you, see you in an hour!"

"Love you more." Riley called back, already swinging his work bag over his shoulder, still dressed in his pyjamas. He could change at work. "Don't trip on the stairs —!"

Then came the crash. "She tripped on the stairs."

"I'm okay!"

🌙

Riley was late — okay, he wasn't late but he wasn't early either. He's a detective, and unlike Angela whose shift started at six am, his shift didn't start until seven am.

But the clock on his desk flashed 7:15am. The precinct was already humming with the feeling of adrenaline from the officers, and the smell of sweat and fear from the rookies who started today.

Riley's eyes catch Angela, who was chatting away with Grey in the briefing room. The two are a secret well kept behind any closed door, but everyone knows that they're close knit friends who do more than just work together in the precinct.

Riley Moon — Smitty strolled into the briefing room with a lazy grin and a half-empty cup of black roast that had seen better hours. He hated his coffee strong, but after he had made Angela's coffee with too much cream and sugar, there wasn't much left for him.

Sergeant Grey stood at the front, his usual stone-cold-faced presence commanding the room. Well, commanding the rookies who were sat in the front row as Grey talked to Angela and Tim, who Riley hadn't seen.

The rookies — wide-eyed and wound tighter than fresh cuffs around the worst criminal — sat in their neatly pressed blues, trying to look anything but terrified.

"Officer Bishop called out sick," Grey said when he saw Riley. The sentence dropped like a stone because he knew what that meant.

Riley leaned against the wall with his coffee like he'd been painted there years ago. He has suggested it once, during an evaluation with the captain, who shot the idea down real quick.

Grey didn't hesitate, his mind was already made up. And who else could he possibly have taken the rookie, his brother? The rookie would run for the hills. "Moon. You're taking Nolan today.

Riley blinked, but his smile didn't waver. "I'm sorry — did you say me?"

Grey's stare didn't flinch. He was way too used to this for his liking. "Until Bishop returns."

Angela Lopez let out a soft whistle from where she stood. A soft smirk resting on the lips that Riley loved way too much. "Better polish that patience, Moonie."

"I didn't realize this was punishment," Riley sighed as he pushed off the wall. "All right, let's go, Discount Dad."

John Nolan, already halfway to standing, paused. "Wait. Is that about the hair, or the age?"

"Yes," Riley replied dryly, brushing past him. He didn't specify which, which made John send a very panicked look to the other rookies as he walked away.

As the Riley moved, passing Angela who held a smirk. "Play nice, Moonie. He's new."

"I'm always nice," Riley said. "But I don't babysit unless there's snacks involved."

"So," John Nolan asked as they rounded the first hallway, "What's your actual title? You're not my training officer, right?"

Riley threw him a side glance. "Today? Call me temporary guide to keeping your rookie self from making a very public, very embarrassing mistake."

Nolan chuckled, but wasn't a hundred percent sure if Riley was joking or not. "Is that on your business card?"

"Just under 'sarcasm enthusiast.'" Riley pointed at rooms as they passed. "That's the paperwork cave. Where dreams go to suffocate."

They moved through the precinct like a mismatched buddy cop duo — good cop, bad (sarcastic) cop. Every few steps, Riley lobbed lazy observations like it was the most normal thing in the world: "If it smells like someone reheated fish in the microwave? That's the breakroom. Avoid it. Stay away from the locker on the far left. It opens by itself. Nobody knows why. We stopped asking. This vending machine? Betrayed me in 2016. Don't trust it."

When they finally entered the equipment room. Leather. Metal. The scent of purpose yet poor decisions.

"Officer Moon," said Addie, the quartermaster who smiled at everyone who walked by, waving her painted nails as them. "And... this must be our senior intern."

"John Nolan," John said with a smile.

Riley leaned over the counter. "Don't be too nice, Addie. He'll imprint on you, call you kiddo."

Addie laughed and handed over the standard setup: vest, bags, guns, and Riley's favourite beef jerky that never went bad.

Nolan blinked when he grabbed the bags. "This feels heavier than I expected."

"That," Riley said, tapping the vest that was lazily swung over his arm, "is the weight of every decision you'll make with it on."

Nolan nodded slowly, processing everything that he had learnt, everything that lead him to this now. "Wow."

"I usually follow that with a joke, but... nah. I'll let you sit with it."

By time they had been settled into the police car, their first dispatch came quicker than it had taken them to walk from the storage room to the police car.

Riley drove while Nolan adjusted his seat for the fourth time. His legs too long, shoulders too wide, knees too close.

"Relax," Riley said, one hand on the wheel. "It's probably just someone who didn't like their neighbor's playlist."

The house was robin's egg blue, with sagging shutters and sun-scorched grass that had small little dead spots from where Riley assumed a little kid played. Riley let Nolan knock while he leaned against the post.

A man in a messy bun opened the door, frowning at the sight of two officers standing at her door. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, sir. I'm Officer Nolan, this is Officer Moon. We're following up on a possible disturbance reported here last night."

"It was nothing," he said quickly, but not in a weird way, one that Riley could tell was genuine. "You can go."

Before either could reply, a tiny voice chimed from inside.

A little boy peeked around his father's legs. "Are you here to help my daddy? He fell down the stairs last night, see —" He pointed to the gash that Riley had missed in the beginning, right across the man's forehead.

Riley stood straighter. Curios now.

Nolan's voice was gentle. "Sir... is everything okay?"

The man's cheeks grew red. "I promise I'm okay, me and my wife thought he was sleeping upstairs, and we wanted a few minutes alone where he couldn't hear us. Got a little excited on the way down..."

"Oh," John said, eyes wide. "Oh wow."

Riley hid a smirk. "Smart kid. You might want to get him a badge for Christmas, we have some at the station."

The man sighed. "Sorry you came all the way out for that, guys."

"No such thing as nothing," Riley replied. "Glad everyone's safe."

🌙

By three in the afternoon, Nolan's uniform was rumpled, and his handshake smile had devolved into barely-contained social exhaustion that made his cheeks hurt.

He wiped his palm on his pants. "And that was the fiftieth handshake."

"Congratulations," Riley said with a small laugh. "You've officially shaken more hands than a politician with daddy issues."

"I can't feel my fingers."

"They grow back."

Just as they turned down a row of suburban garbage bins, a metallic crash rang out — loud and sharp.

Both men froze. John let his hand rest over his taser, well Riley let his fingers itch for his pepper spray.

"...Was that the bin?" Nolan questioned, eyes still wide and his body ready to run.

"No," Riley said, already pulling out his pepper spray. "That was the sound of our day getting worse."

They approached the trash can cautiously.

"It's probably empty," Nolan muttered and then the lid exploded off.

Out launched a raccoon, eyes showing with rage and day-old lasagna on his cheeks. Nolan yelped and stumbled back.

"IS IT CHARGING?"

"It's judging you," Riley laughed loudly, pocketing his pepper spray.

The raccoon sprinted into the hedges, triumphant at the scare he had just accomplished.

Nolan gasped. "Did it GROWL?"

"Yes," Riley said. "Also, you just got rookie-initiated by nature. Took me three months. Nice job, daddy cop."