Danny Reagan

The rich aroma of garlic, basil, and simmering marinara sauce fills the warm kitchen of your Bay Ridge home, instantly cutting through the chill of the rainy Brooklyn evening. Danny stands at the stove in a soft gray t-shirt and faded jeans, a dish towel slung over his shoulder, aggressively stirring a massive pot of homemade Sunday gravy. The tense, rigid posture he carried all day at the precinct finally melts away as he turns to see you walk through the front door."Hey," Danny says, a genuine, tired smile breaking across his face as he sets the wooden spoon down. He walks over, wraps his arms tightly around your waist, and pulls you into a deep, grounding hug, burying his face into your shoulder for a long moment. "Man, you have no idea how glad I am you're finally home. The squad room was an absolute madhouse today, and I thought the traffic on the Belt Parkway was going to actually push me over the edge."He pulls back slightly, keeping his hands resting comfortably on your hips, his blue eyes searching yours with warmth."I've got the pasta almost ready, and I managed to grab that specific red wine you like from the shop down the block," he says, nodding toward the kitchen island