The bullpen buzzed with energy. Streamers hung from the ceiling, the smell of food filled the air, and Charles was practically vibrating with excitement as he arranged the last of his carefully plated dishes on the table.
"Okay, everyone," Charles announced proudly, adjusting his chef's apron. "Feast your eyes on a Boyle family masterpiece. We have my grandmother's famous bone marrow stew, a three-meat roast that's both tender and mysterious, and of course, fried meat bites marinated in the secret Boyle blend. It's savory, smoky, and mildly addictive."
Amy smiled nervously. "Charles, please tell me all the meat is from… normal animals this time."
Charles beamed. "Define normal."
Terry, holding a clipboard and a worried look, groaned. "Boyle, if I find out that's raccoon again, I'm confiscating your ladle. Terry hates raccoon."
"It's not raccoon," Boyle said quickly, then muttered, "It's raccoon-adjacent."
"Why would you even cook a raccoon? Terry hates raccoons. It's gross," Terry said as he pointed his finger at the dustbin. "Get rid of that nonsense before anyone gets sick."
Amy and Gina stood near the door with shiny party poppers in hand, whispering strategy like they were planning a surprise ambush.
"Okay," Amy said, eyes sparkling. "When they walk in, we pop, yell 'Welcome back,' and toss confetti."
Gina grinned. "I'm ready. My trigger finger's been itching all morning. Also, I put glitter in mine because regular confetti is for accountants."
"Glitter?" Amy frowned. "Gina, that stuff never comes out of clothes."
"Exactly," Gina said smugly. "Memories should stick forever."
Across the bullpen, Hitchcock and Scully were huddled around a brand-new microwave like it was alien technology.
"Look, Scully, this one has a pizza button," Hitchcock said, pressing it repeatedly.
Scully nodded with genuine awe. "And it says 'crisp mode.' Do you think it actually makes things crispy?"
"Only one way to find out," Hitchcock said, sliding in a frozen pizza without removing the cardboard.
Terry caught them in the act and barked, "No! Stop! You don't put cardboard in a microwave!"
Both men froze. Hitchcock blinked. "Then what's it for?"
Terry sighed deeply. "I'm surrounded by children."
Amy stifled a laugh as she adjusted the banner over the elevator door. It read in neat block letters: WELCOME BACK!
Captain Holt emerged just then, impeccably dressed as always, though even he looked faintly amused by the sight of balloons and a sparkly "Team Nine-Nine" poster on the wall.
"I see we've converted the precinct into a daycare," he remarked dryly.
Amy smiled. "Just some team spirit, Captain. After everything that happened, they deserve a proper welcome."
"Indeed," Holt said, glancing toward the food table. "Although the aroma suggests this celebration may also serve as a test of gastrointestinal fortitude."
Charles puffed up proudly. "Oh, it's more than that, Captain. It's a culinary journey. Every bite tells a story."
Holt looked at him. "I prefer my meals to be simple and milk-free."
[A few minutes later]
The elevator dinged, and all conversation stopped.
The doors slid open in cinematic slow motion.
Out stepped Jake first, striding forward like an action hero. He wore his leather jacket, sunglasses indoors, and carried his donut-shaped seat pillow under one arm like a prized trophy. Behind him, Rosa walked with her usual swagger, her black boots clicking on the floor, while Ray followed—calm, unreadable, and just a little intimidating in his dark coat.
Jake grinned, tossing an imaginary explosion behind him. "Cue the music!" he shouted.
Boyle immediately hit play on a small speaker. The sound of Bad Boys filled the bullpen, echoing through the room.
Confetti exploded.
"WELCOME BACK!" everyone yelled at once.
Amy and Gina popped their party cannons in perfect sync, showering the trio in a storm of color and glitter. Rosa blinked as a handful of glitter stuck to her hair. She looked murderous, but Gina just grinned proudly.
"Memories," Gina said, snapping a selfie.
Jake stopped in the middle of the bullpen, throwing his arms out like a conquering hero. "Ohhh yeah, Nine-Nine! The legends return! The butt survivor, the blade queen, and the mystery man!"
Ray raised an eyebrow. "Please never call me that again."
"Too late, it's canon," Jake said, striding over to his desk and setting down his pillow. "This baby's been through war, literally. Me and this donut are inseparable now."
He plopped into his chair, adjusted the cushion carefully, and sighed like a man finally home. "Ahhh. Perfect. Just like the old days, minus the sitting pain."
Boyle ran to them with a tray of food. "Jake! Rosa! Ray! You're back! This calls for a Boyle buffet. Try the bone marrow stew, it's rich with history and possibly vitamins!"
Ray stared at the bubbling pot like it might move. "Possibly?"
Amy smiled and stepped forward, brushing a bit of confetti off her blazer. "It's good to have you back, all of you. Things were way too quiet without you here."
"Yeah," Rosa said, looking around the bullpen with a rare small smile. "Too quiet."
Terry crossed his arms with a proud grin. "The Nine-Nine is back together. Feels right."
"Couldn't agree more," Jake said as he took and opened one of Boyle's foil bowls. He froze, squinting. "Uh… Charles, this meat's looking at me."
Boyle gasped. "That's the chef's secret! It's supposed to look back. Means it's fresh."
Rosa grimaced. "You're never allowed to cook for me and Ray. Ever."
Ray smirked slightly. "Agreed."
Boyle looked hurt but quickly perked up again. "That's fine! More for me and Scully."
Scully raised a thumbs-up from the couch, his mouth already full. "So good. So chewy."
Jake winced. "He said chewy. That's never a good sign."
Holt stepped forward then, hands clasped neatly behind his back. "Welcome back, detectives and officer. Your work before the incident was exemplary. Despite… unconventional methods." He glanced pointedly at Jake.
Jake saluted with his soup spoon. "Thank you, sir. I vow to only get shot in one butt cheek per case from now on."
Holt blinked once. "A noble but unnecessary promise."
The room burst into laughter, the tension melting away. It was chaotic, loud, and pure Nine-Nine energy again.
Rosa and Ray exchanged a quiet look. For a second, the noise faded, and it was just them—sharing a small smile that said more than words could.
Then Gina blew a party horn right next to Rosa's ear.
"Lovebirds later, party now!" she declared, handing them both paper cups filled with sparkling cider.
Rosa rolled her eyes but clinked her cup against Ray's. "To surviving."
Ray nodded. "And to peace and quiet… while it lasts."
Jake raised his cup too, grinning widely. "To the Nine-Nine! The best damn squad in Brooklyn!"
[20 minutes later]
The confetti was still being swept from the bullpen carpet when Terry clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.
"Alright, party's over, people. Back to work. The city doesn't stop because we had tacos and glitter."
Groans rippled across the room. Jake leaned back in his chair, trying to look casual even though he was clearly wincing. Terry's eyes narrowed.
"Peralta, you good?"
Jake straightened immediately. "Me? Totally. Fine. Fantastic. My butt feels like a cloud."
Amy muttered under her breath, "A cloud that got shot."
Jake shot her a wounded look. "Et tu, Santiago?"
Terry set his clipboard on the table. "You're on desk duty until the doctor clears you. That means paperwork, evidence logs, no field work, no sudden movements, and definitely no running."
Jake scoffed. "Come on, Lieutenant, I've been sitting for days. My butt's practically healed."
He tried to shift in his seat to look convincing, but the second he leaned forward, a sharp pull in his lower back made him wince.
Terry folded his arms. "Yeah. Totally healed. Desk duty."
"Okay, fine," Jake muttered. "Desk duty. I'll be the hero behind the keyboard. The man who types justice."
Amy smiled sweetly. "You'll have to file the backlog from the old robbery cases. There's about a hundred reports waiting."
Jake froze mid-smile. "A hundred? Like one-zero-zero? As in three digits?"
Amy nodded. "And they all need to be properly categorized, scanned, and uploaded."
Jake groaned, dramatically slumping over his desk. "You're killing me, Santiago. You're worse than the bullet."
Rosa, who was standing nearby with her own assignment folder, smirked. "You'll live."
Terry turned to her next. "Diaz, you're on light duty too. That means you'll help Scully and Hitchcock digitize the old case files for the department archive."
Rosa blinked slowly. "You're kidding."
"Nope," Terry said, completely serious. "They need someone who can actually read and use a computer. Besides, take it slow. How bad can it be?"
Across the bullpen, Scully and Hitchcock both waved lazily from their desks, surrounded by teetering stacks of yellowed folders.
Scully called out, "We already started alphabetizing them, but we got distracted around the G's."
Hitchcock nodded. "We found a sandwich menu in one of the files. It's from 1998, but they still deliver."
Terry made that face with too many emotions as he flinched seeing Rosa's death glare, "Look at the bright side. You get to leave early and spend more time with Ray."
Rosa sighed deeply. "Kill me now."
As for Ray, he was on his usual patrol duty.
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[Noon]
Emma Stone entered Nine Nine...
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[POWERSTONES AND REVIEWS PLS]
Support link: www.patr eon.com/UnknownMaster
[24 advance chs] [No double billing.]
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