If Jason Brooks had a list of things he'd rather do than spend an entire Saturday with Maggie Greene, "cleaning the evidence locker with a toothbrush" would've ranked higher.
Unfortunately, Mayor Douglas had just dropped the bomb at the weekly town meeting.
"As part of our new Community Unity Initiative," the mayor had declared, beaming, "we're pairing police officers and firefighters together for a week of outreach! Officer Brooks, you're with Miss Greene. You'll be on joint patrol and community engagement duty. Try not to set anything on fire."
The room had erupted in laughter.
Jason hadn't.
Neither had Maggie — though hers was the "is this man serious" kind of silence, complete with an eyebrow twitch.
Now, six hours later, Jason was sitting in the passenger seat of a fire engine. Not a police cruiser. A fire engine.
Maggie was behind the wheel, sunglasses on, one hand casually draped over the steering wheel like she was in a convertible instead of a 12-ton emergency vehicle.
"You sure you're not gonna get a rash sitting in a truck that doesn't come with a clipboard holder?" she asked.
Jason resisted the urge to adjust his tie. "Do you have to hit every pothole?"
"Do you have to clutch the door handle like we're in a car chase?"
He looked down at his white-knuckled grip. Loosened it. Then immediately grabbed it again as Maggie swerved to avoid a rogue squirrel.
"Relax, Officer Brooks. You're with a professional."
"That's what the squirrel thought," he muttered.
Maggie barked a laugh. "Okay, I'll give you that one."
Their assignment: visit local businesses, hand out safety flyers, and give "a friendly joint presence" to the community.
Their reality: trying not to kill each other before lunch.
Stop 1: Marge's Mini-Mart
Maggie leaned on the counter as Marge fawned over her.
"Oh honey, I saw you pull that boy out of the lake last summer. You were on the news!"
Maggie beamed. "He gave me a soggy drawing of a dragon after. It's still on my fridge."
Marge turned to Jason. "And you're the… meter guy?"
"I'm a patrol officer," Jason said through a tight smile.
"Oh! Right. You're the one who gave my granddaughter a ticket for parallel parking on the curb!"
"She was blocking a fire hydrant."
"Still, she was only nineteen. You could've given her a warning."
"She was also vaping out the sunroof while blasting speed metal," Jason deadpanned.
Marge frowned. Maggie bit her lip.
As they left, Maggie clapped him on the back. "You are wildly unpopular with old ladies."
"Rules exist for a reason."
"Yeah, to ruin brunch," she said.
Stop 2: Sunny Paws Animal Clinic
They were halfway through a fire escape plan demonstration when a Labrador jumped on Jason and licked his face mid-sentence.
Maggie nearly cried laughing.
Jason wiped his face with a paper towel. "I'm adding emotional damage to the report."
"Don't worry, Officer Brooks," said the vet tech. "He only licks people he really likes."
Maggie leaned in, mock-whispering, "I think you just got kissed before your first real date."
Jason shot her a look that landed somewhere between murder and blushing.
By noon, Jason was hot, irritated, and carrying a box of pamphlets that Maggie had been conveniently forgetting to help with. When she paused to flirt with a bakery clerk for an extra free croissant, he finally snapped.
"You know, Greene, some of us take this seriously."
Maggie turned, croissant in one hand, zero guilt in her expression. "And some of us know how to talk to people without making them want to fake a fire just to escape the conversation."
"I'm not here to win a popularity contest."
"Well, mission accomplished."
He exhaled through his nose. "Look. We don't have to like each other. But maybe — just maybe — we could try working together like adults?"
She studied him for a second. "Fine. Let's reset."
"…Really?"
"Sure." She stuck out her hand. "Truce?"
Jason stared at it like it might explode.
Finally, he shook it. "Truce."
She grinned.
He should've known better.
Because the moment their hands separated, a puff of red glitter burst into the air from her palm.
Jason stepped back, stunned. "What the—?!"
"Hand-prank powder," she said proudly. "Biodegradable. It was in the birthday box at the station. Couldn't resist."
Jason looked down at himself. His once-pristine uniform now looked like it had lost a fight with a parade float.
"This is a violation of protocol."
"It's also hilarious."
"I'm filing a complaint."
"You do that," she said, walking ahead of him with a satisfied bounce in her step. "Make sure to list your emotional glitter trauma under 'miscellaneous.'"
Despite the bickering, the afternoon wasn't a complete disaster.
At the senior center, Maggie cracked jokes while Jason efficiently organized a fire drill. At the elementary school, Jason answered a dozen questions about being a cop, while Maggie let the kids try on her helmet. They were opposites — but they made the room feel balanced.
On the drive back, Maggie turned down the radio and said, "Okay, I'll admit… you're not the worst partner I've ever had."
Jason blinked. "Is that… a compliment?"
"Don't get used to it."
There was a beat of quiet.
Then she added, "And you looked kind of cool today. At the school. With the kids. Even if you still talk like a textbook."
Jason glanced at her. "You looked… competent. Surprisingly."
She barked a laugh. "Wow. High praise from the human clipboard."
He smiled despite himself. "Only slightly smug today. You must be tired."
"Or," she said, grinning as they turned onto the station road, "maybe I'm just lulling you into a false sense of security."
As they parked, Jason opened the door — only for a little stream of red glitter to fall out of his pocket.
He looked over at Maggie.
She was already laughing.