A/N: This fic started a couple of weeks ago with a simply-posed scenario in a group text: Imagine Riggs showing up while Roger and Trish are on a date night. Of course, then it spiraled on from there, and this fic was born. We were all pleasantly surprised when a promo picture showed up on Instagram of what looks like just such a scenario… but then we decided we'd better finish up and post this story before that episode aired. ;)

Standard disclaimers apply.

Cowritten with domina tempore and frankie mcstein.

It was one of those perfect nights that Roger Murtaugh always envied other couples for achieving. Dinner at a fantastic restaurant, his gorgeous wife sitting across the table from him, and the kids at home with a baby-sitter. Getting away from it all, even just for the evening on their anniversary, was worth however much cash he'd be forced to fork over at the end of the night.

And then everything was shattered by the Texas twang of a definitely uninvited guest.

"Well hey, you two lovebirds!" The one-and-only Martin Riggs pulled up a chair and seated himself. He grinned proudly from Trish to Roger and back again. "Fancy meeting y'all here."

"How did you even get in here?" Roger snapped. He was not exactly feeling hospitable at the moment, seeing as how, only a few moments before, he had been appreciating the fact that his partner was nowhere to be found. "I can't imagine you making a reservation for anything, let alone dinner at a fancy restaurant."

Trish didn't seem overly excited to see her husband's partner either, but she was slightly more diplomatic about it. "First of all, Riggs why are you on our dinner date?" she asked, crossing her arms and putting on her lawyer tone of voice. "It is our anniversary you know."

"Yeah, Riggs," Roger followed up, raising a questioning eyebrow. Even as he did so, he was pulling his phone out under the table. There was only one person he could think of who would be able to successfully help Roger escape from Riggs, and he just hoped she was close enough and willing to assist him.

The smile Riggs gave them both was distinctly unapologetic. "Well, you know, I wanted to congratulate you two on another year together," he replied with an impish shrug. Then he leaned in and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Plus, I've heard the food here is 'phenomenal.'" He wiggled his fingers in air quotes to accentuate the word. "Five stars seems a bit excessive, if you ask me. I figured I needed to make sure there wasn't any bribery going on with that food critic from The LA Times."

Roger's phone buzzed just then, and he glanced down at it. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he read Palmer's response. She wasn't in the neighborhood, but she was about fifteen minutes away, and of course she'd love to come have dinner with them, just give her a little time since traffic was so unpredictable. Looking back up, he was about to tell Trish their salvation would soon arrive, but then the sight of his partner reaching all the way across the table made him pause. "Riggs, what are you doing?"

If it was possible, Riggs' smile seemed to grow even wider. "Oh, you weren't gonna drink the whole bottle, were you?"

Unhappily watching his partner commandeer his empty glass, Roger sighed. "Trish, we don't feed strays," he growled, just in case anyone at the table needed reminding.

Now Trish turned her eyebrow on her husband, pointedly leaving her arms crossed as she glared at him.

"What?" Roger spread his hands. "Come on, honey, you have to admit that the damage was already done when you invited him to dinner for the fifth ti- Riggs, get your hand out of the bread basket. I don't know where it's been!"

Riggs blinked. "Uh… the bread basket? It's been right here, on the table. Of course, I don't know where it was before that. I've heard that sometimes these kitchens can be a little less than sanitary."

"Roger, be nice!" Trish shook her head. "Martin probably hasn't eaten a real meal in a week."

Riggs frowned.

"That's the last time he was over for dinner, right?" Trish continued.

"Honey," Roger protested, "I was just pointing out the chances that I'm now gonna catch a communicable disease from my dinner roll. A man's allowed to worry about these things you know."

Riggs was still frowning. "Wait, you mean Doritos aren't a real meal?"

Trish just raised an eyebrow.

"Last I checked, no," Roger responded flatly.

"Huh. Who knew?"

"Listen, Martin," Trish started, and Roger cringed. Whenever she started calling the man by his first name, she was about to make an offer that Roger would regret. "Can we get you a table or something? I'm pretty sure those nice people over there are going to wonder where their chair is."

Riggs looked where she was pointing, then shrugged and turned his attention back to the piece of bread he was buttering. "Nah, they're fine. She can sit on his lap, right?"

"No," Roger said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he quite intentionally ignored his partner. "This isn't happening. It's rare we ever have a family dinner now where our children aren't exposed to his shenanigans, and now you and I can't even enjoy our anniversary together! We should have left him at home with the baby-sitter."

The smirk on Trish's face told Roger she was fighting to hold back her laughter, which didn't sit well with him. He needed his wife to back him up on this, not look like she was enjoying the show.

"Oh, if you guys needed a baby-sitter all you had to do was ask."

"We did," Roger retorted. "We asked the nice young lady from down the street."

"I mean… we wouldn't want you to put yourself out like that," Trish said diplomatically, even as she gave Roger's ankle a very undiplomatic kick underneath the table.

Roger grimaced but continued. "She's getting her degree in elementary education. Isn't that nice? She loves children." He smiled smugly at Trish. "Riggs probably only has an elementary school education. See the difference?"

"Hey!" Riggs protested. "I'll have you know I learned a lot from the SEALs. Discipline, for example. Which is important for children."

Roger frowned. "I don't know if you understand what the word 'discipline' actually means, Riggs."

"Sure I do!" Riggs exclaimed. "I've met lots of people I'd like to hit and haven't hit them. See? Discipline." And he grinned proudly as he stuffed the last of the roll in his mouth.

"Oh, so kind of like me right now."

"If there's someone you wanna hit, just let me know; I'll help, partner. It's what partners do, right?" Riggs flashed what Roger supposed was intended to be an angelic smile across the table.

Roger sighed. "Somehow I don't think the management will appreciate a man hitting himself in the middle of their second seating. Just a thought."

By this point, Trish was barely hiding her laughter behind her napkin, which only served to make Roger more frustrated with the whole situation.

Riggs just looked confused. "How would you make him hit himself? This I gotta see. Which guy is it? The one at the bar?" he asked, scanning the room. "It's the one at the bar, isn't it?"

"Speaking of the bar," Trish interrupted, pushing her chair back, "I'm going to get a drink. You boys play nice now."

As she left, Riggs turned back to Roger. "You know something, Rog? Sometimes I feel like your wife doesn't exactly trust us."

"Funny. I always felt she trusted me. Must be the addition of my new partner. Who has somewhere else to be right now, doesn't he?" He tried giving the younger man a pointed glare, but it seemed to go right over Riggs' head. Whether or not that was because the man was just simply ignoring him, Roger wasn't positive, but he had his suspicions.

"You got another partner I don't know about? When did that happen? Wait, you mean Cho, don't you?" Riggs snapped his fingers and pointed at Roger. "I knew Trish wouldn't like him."

"Riggs," Roger nearly growled, "if I order you a to-go box, will you leave?"

"Of course. You wanna get your food to go I wouldn't dream of keeping the next sitting from taking your table."

The comment prompted Roger to glance at his watch. When he read the hands, he frowned, realizing just how much time had passed since his partner had shown up. "Now see what you did?" he asked. "You wasted our dinner date and now we're gonna have to eat our steak in the car."

"You can't eat steak and drive. How about I just… hold it for you?"

"Riggs, go wash your hands and maybe we can talk." He wasn't about to admit that he was trying to calculate how long it would take Riggs to make a trip to the bathroom and figure out if he and Trish could make their getaway in that time. "Bathroom's right over there, buddy. Right… past the… bar… Oh heck no!"

Riggs stood up next to him, having quickly followed his partner's line of sight. "Do you see the look on that guy's face?" he asked quietly.

Across the room at the bar, Trish was facing a man who Roger could only describe as… sleazy. The man's blonde hair was slicked back against his head, unsuccessfully hiding the balding spot on the top, and he was… yes, oozing was the right word here… fake charm, and if he put one of his slimy hands on Trish…

"I do not like that look." Riggs's voice was low and angry.

"Hold my napkin, Riggs."

"Oh right," Riggs snorted. "Like I'm gonna sit here and do nothing."

Roger glanced back at his friend. "Fine. You brought your sidearm, right?"

With a nod, Riggs tossed aside the pile of napkins he was holding and patted his side. "'course. And a spare," he added with a wink.

"Good," Roger nodded. He put down the steak knife he'd picked up the moment he'd spotted the lowlife giving his wife trouble at the bar, then started through the rows of tables towards where Trish was now glancing his way. He clenched and unclenched his fists; this man was soon going to regret his existence.

As he passed Roger's side of the table, Riggs reached out and casually picked up the steak knife. "Just in case," he muttered to himself before following his partner as Roger stalked determinedly across the room to the bar.

"Hey, hon," Roger greeted as he strode up and put an arm around her. "How's it going? This fellow bothering you by any chance?" he asked, glaring daggers at the stranger in question as he casually put his free hand on his hip, making sure his jacket opened as he did so in order to draw attention to the badge on his belt. "Oh, this is my partner, by the way. Say hello, Riggs."

Riggs dropped a hand on man's shoulder from behind. "Howdy," he greeted coldly.

The man looked over at Riggs nervously, his demeanor having completely changed from that of an overbearing creep to what could now best be described as a childish troublemaker caught in the act. And perhaps now scared for his life. Which was perfectly fine with Roger.

"You know, we were just talking about his discipline he picked up in the SEALs," Roger said, nodding in Riggs' direction.

Riggs waved the steak knife in the air as he smiled broadly at the man.

Trish looked between the trio of men, unsure if she should just let her boys play this out or if she should put a stop to the antics in the best interests of everyone involved. Then again, she was quite sure she wouldn't mind defending them against a suit from this sleazebag if something… unfortunate was to happen.

"Riggs," Roger was continuing, "remember when you threw that guy out the window the other day? How far down was it?"

"Long way down," Riggs nodded.

The man gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing as a bead of sweat trickled down his temple.

"Yeah, long way," Roger agreed. "So why don't you just pay the nice bartender here for your drink and then call a cab? Pretty sure you don't want my partner taking you on any trips of his own."

Riggs shrugged at the comment. "Or I could call you an ambulance."

"Or that," Roger pointed at his partner in acknowledgment. "You know, that's a good idea, Riggs? I know a couple of the guys at the station who would be happy to help us out."

"I know more than a couple."

Having apparently decided that arguing with the two men confronting him was not in his best interest, the man reached into his pocket quickly and retrieved his wallet.

Roger nodded in approval as the man pulled out several bills. "You know, it always annoys me when people forget to tip. After all, bartenders are an important part of a night out."

The man glared at him and opened his mouth as if he was about to respond, but then Trish cleared her throat.

"A hundred dollars should do it." She raised an eyebrow to underscore her point.

"Oh yeah," Riggs nodded. "Don't want to neglect the bartender." He elbowed the man in the side as if making a joke. "Gotta make up for all the jerks they have to deal with."

Trish chuckled humorlessly. "Yeah… now beat it," she told him, her upper lip curling in a coldly determined expression. She took a quick, threatening step forwards, which was all the encouragement the man needed to drop his money on the counter and make a beeline for the exit.

Riggs leaned over to whisper in his partner's ear as they watched the man nearly trip over his own feet in his rush to safety. "Trish is scary sometimes. Where'd she learn that?"

"I've learned not to ask certain questions," Roger whispered back. "Just roll with it." He nodded as casually as possible to the bartender as he put an arm around Trish's shoulders. "Honey, what do you say we pay our check and go find an overlook somewhere where we can park and finish our dinner?" he suggested.

"Sounds good!" Riggs clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly.

"By ourselves," Roger amended.

Riggs had the nerve to look offended. "Well of course just the three of us. Who else? Not that guy?" he pointed at the front door.

"You think I could text Avery and get him to call Riggs in for overtime?" Roger wondered aloud.

"Ah, that might work except for one thing, partner," Riggs said, wagging a finger in Roger's direction. "I might've forgotten my cell back at the trailer. I'm always doing that," he chuckled. "You'd think I'd have learned by now, but…" He trailed off, his gaze now focused on the entrance of the restaurant.

"Riggs?" Roger waved a hand in front of his partner's face. "Earth to Riggs."

"Sorry, partner," Riggs replied distractedly, still staring towards the front door.

Following his gaze, Trish immediately caught sight of what had captured Riggs' attention, and her face broke into a wide grin. "Agent Palmer has impeccable timing," she said to Roger.

"Oh, right!" Roger smiled in reply. "I knew that would work. Well I did!" He protested when his wife raised an eyebrow at him. "I texted her earlier tonight when Riggs first showed up and started eating all of our bread."

Trish just chuckled and shook her head. "I can't say that's the worst idea you've ever had."

"Well I would think not." Roger tugged on his blazer with a satisfied nod.

Meanwhile, Palmer had caught sight of the trio and waved. The smile that spread across her face when she looked at Riggs was not lost on either of the Murtaughs. Riggs on the other hand…

"Uh, guys, I gotta go to the bathroom," Riggs turned to head in the other direction, but Roger stuck out a hand to stop him.

"Come on now, Riggs; you can't leave Agent Palmer out here all alone. That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of you," he chided.

"Hi guys," Palmer greeted as she reached the bar where they were still standing. "What's up?"

"Oh, you know," Riggs said, raising a hand to run it through his hair, then letting it drop to rub the back of his neck nervously. "Just, uh, out for dinner. You know it's the Murtaughs' anniversary today."

Palmer turned to the couple, a charming smile lighting up her face. "No, I didn't know that! Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Trish responded gracefully.

Roger glanced over at his partner. The look on Riggs' face as he watched Palmer smiling at Trish was one that Roger had hoped to see for quite some time, and the older man smiled to himself in satisfaction.

"You know," Palmer was saying as Roger brought his attention back to the actual conversation, "I didn't realize it was your anniversary. I'm sure you two want to go have dessert or something on your own. Why don't you both scoot on out of here? I'm sure Riggs and I can find something to do to entertain ourselves."

"Are you sure?" Trish asked. "We wouldn't want to leave right when you got here."

Roger leaned over. "Uh, Trish, honey, I'm sure it's fine. She said it's fine. It's fine, right, Palmer?"

"Oh, of course!" Palmer smiled. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you."

Sliding her arm through her husband's, Trish looked between the younger two members of the group. "Well, then, honey. What do you say we pay the check and continue this elsewhere?"

"Mm," Roger murmured in agreement, leaning down to kiss her. "That sounds like a lovely plan to me."

Trish responded with a long kiss of her own, at which point there was an awkward cough from Riggs' direction.

Roger looked over and smirked at the uncomfortable look on his partner's face. "Looks like we should have kissed as soon as he showed up tonight," he said with a wink.

Trish punched his arm playfully. "Go pay the check, honey."

"And then we'll continue this in the car?" Roger asked hopefully.

She laughed. "And then we'll continue this in the car."

"Well then. Good night, Palmer," Roger told her with a nod. "Riggs," he added, looking sternly at the other man.

"Rog," Riggs nodded.

Palmer turned to pull out one of the bar stools. "Come on, Riggs; let's let the Murtaughs get on with their date night."

He looked as if he was about to protest, but then Riggs nodded and climbed onto the stool next to Palmer.

"Good night," Trish told them with a smile and a small wave. When they were safely out of earshot, she leaned her head against Roger's arm. "You're so smart, honey."

"That's why you married me," he replied with a smile of his own.

"Oh is that why I married you?" Trish responded playfully. "I thought it was because you couldn't resist my good looks and charm."

Roger paused as if he was thinking it over, then he shrugged. "And that."

"Hurry up and pay the bill, honey," Trish said, unsuccessfully trying to hide her smirk as she shook her head. She arched an eyebrow. "I'll be waiting in the car."

Watching her cross the room to the front door, Roger smiled to himself. He didn't know how a woman as incredible as Trish had agreed to stay with him all of these years, but he was one lucky man.

Fin.