Everyone,
check your email.
The greatest thing that could
ever happen has just happened.
The girl who beat you
for high school
valedictorian died?
No, "Kevin Cozner
requests your presence
at Raymond's birthday party."
Who's Kevin Cozner?
Is he the star
of "Danzes with Wolvez?"
He's Captain Holt's husband.
Captain Raymond Holt.
We're invited
to the captain's birthday party.
Oh, the captain's party
and whatnot.
I can't wait to see the inside
of Raymond's house.
I'm gonna learn everything
there is to know about him.
I bet it's really fancy,
like Beauty and the Beast fancy.
No, it's probably just an empty,
white cube with a USB port in it
for him to plug his finger in
when he's on sleep mode.
Apparently, my husband Kevin
has invited you all to my party.
There is very little
street parking,
no gifts, no singing
of "Happy Birthday."
Should be fun.
Sounds fantastic.
Did you hear that?
His husband invited us, not him.
- He so doesn't want us there.
- Yes, he does.
Mm, it was kind
of a last-minute invite.
Just stirrin' the pot.
Why wouldn't Holt want us there?
Because he thinks
we'll embarrass him
in front of his husband,
which, frankly, is insulting!
Oh, man.
All the orange soda spilled out
of my cereal.
Happy birthday,
you sly, old fox.
How many spankings
is it this year?
Peralta, please.
Save some charm for the party.
You mean the party that you
begrudgingly invited us to
at the last minute
'cause you don't want us there?
I couldn't be happier
you're coming.
And it shows.
I can't wait to meet Kevin.
I assume he's the fun one
in the relationship.
I'm not sure you and Kevin
will get along.
Really? Well, I disagree.
In fact, I will guarantee you
that by the end of the night,
Kev and I will be best friends.
- He hates being called "Kev."
- Or does he?
Yes.
Bam!
Behold, my secret weapon
for winning over Kevin.
In this box
is every grisly crime
the Nine-Nine has worked
in the past eight years.
Civilians love
juicy cop stories.
I call that murder
where they strung fishing wire
through three guys.
Hey, we solved that together.
Well, tough Tetris. I called it.
Also, I've loaded all
of my favorite
karaoke backing tracks
onto my phone.
Kevin and I will be duetting
"Rolling in the Deep!"
That's it,
emergency squad meeting,
briefing room, two minutes.
Uh, adult parties?
Sergeant, I believe
they're called orgies.
No-look five.
I met my wife at an orgy.
Well, she was leaving an orgy
and we bumped into each other
on the street.
Real Meet Cute.
Thank you for exhibiting exactly
why this meeting is necessary.
Everyone here needs
some instruction
on interacting with grown-ups.
Sergeant, why am I here?
I'm always incredibly
appropriate.
In high school,
I was voted "most appropriate."
Ooh, self burn. Those are rare.
I shouldn't be here either.
I'm fine at parties.
I just stand in the middle
of the room
and don't say anything.
Here are the rules:
No staring at your phones,
no rolling in two hours late.
No sweatpants, no jeans,
and no shorts.
What about dress-up shorts?
For instance,
the kind Jen Aniston might wear?
No, those are still shorts.
No shorts.
And everyone bring
a bottle of wine.
Why are there so many rules?
Next thing you're gonna say
is we can't be late.
Yeah, that's, like,
the first thing I said.
Ohh.
This neighborhood's amazing.
Class just seeps outta
every vestibule.
Keep it in your pants, Santiago.
Scully, I specifically said
no shorts.
Sarge, it's not my fault.
You said so many things
about shorts, I got confused.
Man, did I screw the pooch.
- Ahh.
- Peralta, where have you been?
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know,
I am three...
ty-five minutes late. Yikes!
But I had to stop
and get some wine.
Hello, good sir,
I'd like your finest
bottle of wine, please.
That will be $1,600.
Great, I'd like your $8-est
bottle of wine, please.
It's from the finest vineyard
in Arkansas.
Ah, samesies!
Wow.
Ah, welcome.
Captain!
Raymond!
Those slacks are a knockout.
Come on, Amy.
I trust you found
my home easy to locate
and thank you all for wearing
appropriate footwear.
Wow, you really let
your hair down
when you're not at the office.
Ah, detectives,
meet my husband, Kevin.
Nice to meet you. Hi.
Evening, so glad
you could make it.
Ah, and look, he brought us
some wine.
drink. This is legally called
"wine drink."
Hmm, how very thoughtful.
Thank you.
It's red... like blood.
You know,
I worked a double homicide
on this block
a couple years ago.
- The details will astound you.
- Yes, I am sorry.
Perhaps Raymond
didn't say anything.
Our home has
a "no shoptalk" policy.
I don't bring home Beowulf,
and he doesn't bring home
cop stories.
So may I pour you some of this
wine drink you brought us?
Perhaps all of it?
All of it sounds good.
Actually, Ray and I met
over the phone.
Oh, they've all heard the story.
No, we haven't, and we need to.
Well, Ray was a source
for an article
I was writing
for The New Yorker.
I asked him a series of dry
questions about police work
and his answers had me
in stitches.
There's no one funnier
than Ray Holt.
- Amen.
- There isn't?
We met for a drink that night
and we've been together since.
So, Kevin, I hear you're
a professor at Columbia?
That's right, yes.
I head the classics department.
Ah, interesting, classics.
Zeppelin, Hendrix, Die Hard.
Total classics head over here.
I'm joking, obviously.
I know what the classics are.
The Odyssey and... the one you
said when we got here,
the wolf one.
Kevin, why don't we go mingle
and let the detectives
settle in?
Boyle, what happened
to your shirt?
I spilled a wonderful
winter salsa.
Here, wear my shirt.
I was gonna take it off anyway.
Hitchcock, no!
Boyle, take my sweater.
Fits really well.
We have similar physiques.
We've been here
all of four minutes,
and you guys have already
forgotten everything I said!
Party huddle, stat!
Okay, gang, we need
a new strategy.
Totally.
What is going on out there?
We can't tell cop stories,
Kevin doesn't find me charming,
and a native English speaker
referred to Captain Holt
as "hilarious."
I am flummoxed!
That's a word I learned
for this party and I am it!
- Well, I'm doing fine.
- Really?
"Raymond, those slacks
are a knockout."
- Do you think he heard that?
- Only 'cause you yelled it.
Shut up. From now on,
we play to our strengths.
Charles, you know everything
about food.
That's all you talk about.
I mean, I don't think
anyone will ever know
everything about food.
It's an evolving discipline.
That's great stuff.
It's so boring. Don't waste it.
Amy, you studied art history.
That's interesting.
Scully, opera.
Hitchcock, nothing.
Talk about nothing.
Rosa, stick with Gina.
Make sure she doesn't say
anything insane
or steal anything.
Too late.
Don't worry, it's just, like,
hats and scarves and stuff.
She will put those back.
I will handle the chitchat.
That just leaves you, Peralta.
What's your cultural specialty?
Easy, Kevin mentioned
The New Yorker
and I've totally read that.
Keep a low profile,
chuckle at anecdotes.
Try not to start
any conversations.
Got it.
Wait a minute,
you're hitchcocking me?
Well, not surprising.
We're practically twins.
"Be appropriate," on three...
Quietly.
One, two, three.
Be appropriate.
Now, break it up. We look weird.
Right.
Don't move as a group.
You're not gazelles.
- No, no, I said, "millimeters."
What?
Oh, Ray, I'm gonna choke
from laughter.
You're too funny!
Yes, great humor words, Raymond.
I reminds me of a
very interesting article I read
about human trafficking
in The New Yorker.
No, it doesn't.
Oh. The one written
by David Remnick.
I loved that piece,
from four weeks ago.
Or was it three weeks? No, four.
Anyways, I was riveted.
I'm a huge New Yorker guy.
I could talk
about that article for hours.
- Great.
- That's unnecessary.
- Let's do that right now.
- Let's do.
Ah, there they are.
Kevin, let's greet our guests.
Oh. Mm-hmm. Duty calls.
- To be continued.
- Totes! Can't wait!
I can wait.
All I remember
about that article is the title.
I was hopped up on nitrous.
We gotta find that magazine.
It's gotta be in here somewhere.
This place is like a candy store
for nerds.
Stop eating crab wrong!
Ah, pepper relish
on your arancini.
Very playful.
Cut through the richness,
add a little levity.
I love that.
You really know your food.
You could say
it's the only thing
I'm allowed to talk about.
I'm Charles.
I work with Captain Holt.
I'm Vivian Ludley.
I work with Kevin.
No! The Vivian Ludley?
Author of
Stone Fruits and Stone-Stones:
Food of the Paleolithic Era?
I'm a huge fan!
It's got the best recipes
for making salads out of moss.
The trick is, you have
to lean into the dirt taste.
- Aha.
- Mm-hmm.
Chickpeas, tahini,
smoked paprika...
They make their own hummus.
- Santiago?
- Sergeant!
I'm learning so much.
We both have blue hand towels,
we have the same microwave,
and once I buy coasters
made out of geodes,
we'll both have those.
Yeah.
No, hey! My notes!
This is a birthday party,
not a recon mission.
You can get this back
at the end of the night.
All right. Let's go
interact with these dummies.
Wait here.
What do you teach?
Comparative historiography
of the French
and American revolutions.
- Nope. How 'bout you?
- Molecular biology.
Worse. What do you study?
Abnormal psychology.
So, like, weirdos and freaks.
You should meet my friend.
Hey.
Gina, what are you thinking
about right now?
I was thinking how I would make
the perfect American president,
based upon my skill set,
dance ability, and bloodlust.
That is fascinating.
Ah-shan-ti.
Oh, man, it's black Tom Selleck
and white Sidney Poitier.
Come on.
All books and no magazines?
What kind of crappy library's
full of books?
A crap library...
All of the magazines
are in the bathroom.
Great solve, Peralta.
Ah!
- Can I help you?
Captain.
I didn't hear you
silently sneak up on me.
Oh, that reminds me,
tell Kevin that I am available
for brunch on Sunday the 17th.
The 17th is a Tuesday.
Why are you talking
about The New Yorker
all of a sudden?
I always talk about smart stuff.
You know, the jazz age,
what's in a name,
the 1950s movies
that are from the '50s.
Those were the categories
on Jeopardy last night.
Don't try so hard
to impress my husband.
Yes, sir.
To the crap library.
April 13, May 2... Come on!
Why doesn't my life
always work out perfectly?
Uh, just a second!
I'm halfway done!
I'm halfway there,
I'm halfway done...
- with what's happening in here.
Okay.
Una furtiva lagrima
This song gets to me every time.
It's beautiful.
You must be so proud.
I sure am.
How long have
you two been together?
We've been partners
for almost 30 years.
So do you two ever
get harassed at work?
Harassed? For what?
For being a gay couple
who works together in the NYPD:
Bu-u-u-ooh...
Peralta. Hey,
don't you one-minute me.
I will break that finger off.
Hang up that phone.
I'm talking
to my credit card company.
I tried to get an online
subscription to The New Yorker
and they declined me.
Apparently based
on my previous purchases,
they assumed it was fraud.
That's crazy. I'm fancy.
One time, I had
coffee-flavored ice cream.
- Shut up!
- Okay.
Hang up now.
If you're that desperate,
the first two paragraphs
of the article
are on the free site.
You have one minute
to look it up,
and then if I catch you
on that phone again...
- Oh, my.
- Don't worry.
I'm due for an upgrade,
and my babies are on the cloud.
He is so strong.
Thank you. Lovely party, Kevin.
These tiny pickles
are hilarious.
They're called cornichon.
So that New Yorker article
about human trafficking
- we were discussing...
- Yes, so interesting,
especially the first
two paragraphs.
Right, but what did you think
of the thesis,
vis-a-vis modern slavery
and its undeniable role
in the economy?
Good.
If you ask me, the whole thesis
was way off base,
vis-a-vis the rest
of the article...
vis-a-vis... America.
The article was antislavery.
Are you saying
that slavery is good?
I think you're missing
the point of the article.
You must not remember it right.
I just read it last night
as I got in bed.
- It's quite fresh in my memory.
- Ah.
I would like to hear
more of your thoughts.
And I would love
to give them to you,
but unfortunately, I have got
to hit the crap library.
Excuse me one second.
- My last meal on earth?
- Mm.
That's a great question.
I'd go classic French...
Ortolan.
Tiny songbird,
eaten in a single bite,
bones and all
in open defiance of God.
It's illegal to consume ortolan,
but I actually got academic
dispensation to eat one once.
Ohh. The beak, very crunchy.
That is literally the sexiest
thing anyone has ever said.
How are you single?
You're not seeing anyone?
No. There is nobody in my life.
Sort of a sad thing
to wink about,
I realize now.
Aren't you supposed
to be babysitting Gina?
Doesn't need my help.
She's over there,
dazzling some psychologists.
All men are at least
30% attracted to me.
My mother cried
the day I was born
because she knew she would never
be better than me.
At any given moment,
I'm thinking about one thing:
Richard Dreyfuss hunkered over,
eatin' dog food.
I feel like I'm
the Paris of people.
Complete overlap
of ego and id.
It's been theorized,
but I never thought I'd see it.
I'm exquisite.
I can't believe I'm frenching
in the closet.
I feel like a teenager!
I feel like I'm 40 again.
Chew on this shiso leaf.
It'll give our kissing
umami flavor.
- Delicious.
Time to put my newfound
knowledge to the test.
So, sir, popcorn setting,
always too short, am I right?
I'm sorry?
On our microwave.
We have the same microwave.
Oh, I didn't buy it.
It came with the house.
Hummus... Thoughts?
I have no thoughts about hummus.
- If you'll excuse me.
- Yeah.
Blink twice if you want me
to mercy kill you.
I thought I had done
enough recon, but clearly,
I have only scratched
the surface.
If I'm gonna bond with him,
I have to massively violate
his privacy.
But Truffaut wrote Breathless
and I've always considered
movies a writer's medium.
I can't agree.
It's Godard's film.
Come on!
I mean,
Truffaut is also important.
Seriously? Hold this,
I gotta go.
Wow. Maybe it is
Truffaut's film.
Mighty DVR,
tell me the captain's secrets.
Unveil yourself to me.
Ooh, How It's Made:
"Contact Lenses."
Bingo!
- What are you doing here?
- I... what? I'm not.
What are you doing here?
I need to find a New Yorker
that Kevin left by the bed,
so I can justify
this whole proslavery stance
I've backed myself into.
- Detectives!
Sarge! I see that you, like I,
came up here
to chastise Santiago.
Amy, this is low, even for you.
I cannot believe you
would both violate
the "please stay downstairs"
rule,
which was prominently posted!
Get outta here!
I don't know why we have
to have this discussion again.
- What do we do?
- Bathroom! Bathroom.
Why are you upset with me?
Your employees are the ones
putting a damper on the party.
They are acting terribly.
You're the one who's
been acting terribly tonight.
You've been curt and snobby
with my guests.
You've been needling
poor Peralta so much,
you've practically
made him a new suit.
Needled him a new suit.
Even when we're fighting
you're hilarious. Stop it.
Oh, no!
Dog, allergies, sneezing.
No! Get away!
Shh.
Grab the dog!
Look at me...
Do not blow this for us.
I knew this
wasn't going to work.
It never has.
We should've gone out for dinner
like we do every year.
Why did you make me invite them?
Because I like them.
They're good people.
Santiago, are you
hiding in my bathroom
with a dog you're
deathly allergic to?
No.
Occupied?
Well, this has
been a stinky 12 hours.
My computer bag got
a hole in the bottom
and my power cord fell out.
Last night was such a disaster.
I wheeze-cried myself to sleep.
Well, at least
Captain said he liked us,
right before he kicked us out
of his house
for violating his trust.
Why didn't Kevin
want to invite us?
We could have been really
cool people.
We weren't,
but we could've been.
Well, as soon as he unveiled
his "no cop talk" policy,
I was sunk.
Gruesome murders are
the cornerstone of my charm.
He spent the last 30 years
with a cop,
maybe he's sick
of hearing about it.
Wait. Maybe that's not
what he's sick of.
Santiago, you brilliant bastard,
you figured it out!
Hello again,
Professor Kevin Cozner.
What do you want?
I'd like to tell you
about a case I solved.
Thank you, but just
as with my home,
my office has a strict
"no cop talk" policy.
I figured, but the case
that I have solved
is the case
of the "no cop talk" policy.
There were three things that
bothered me about last night:
You didn't want the Nine-Nine
at your party
even though you'd never met us,
your friends immediately
asked Hitchcock and Scully
if they were harassed,
and there was
something interesting
about that photo
in your library...
you and the captain
were shunted off to the side.
I don't think
you dislike cop talk.
I think you dislike cops.
I'm married to one.
I know and I can't imagine
it's been fun
watching the man you love
marginalized, underappreciated,
and disrespected by the NYPD:
Because he's gay, Raymond
has been put through hell
by his colleagues, many of whom,
quite frankly,
look exactly like you.
Devastatingly handsome?
I'm sorry,
I'm uncomfortable with emotions.
So yes, I decided
a long time ago
that just because I love Raymond
doesn't mean I have to love
the people he works with.
Good solve, Detective.
Nice cop lingo.
Look, I'm really sorry
that we ruined your party.
I'd like to make it up to you.
Captain,
thank you for joining us.
- What's going on?
- A proper birthday dinner.
Amy chose the restaurant.
Captain.
Ah, perfect.
I've always wanted to come here.
Boyle picked the menu.
- Vivian helped.
Terry chose the champagne.
I'm sorry about your party, sir.
I tried to keep them in line,
but I failed.
That's not your job.
I'm sorry you didn't get
a chance to enjoy yourself.
Gina has brought back
all the silverware
that she stole from your house.
- What?
- Also, this clock.
- Good heavens.
- This isn't ours.
And my contribution
will be to refrain
from discussing The New Yorker
for the rest of my living days.
- Enjoy.
- Thank you, Jake.
- You're welcome, Kevin.
- Call me "Kev."
- Oh.
- What?
Oh, he told you to say that,
didn't he?
Well, you are always playing
pranks on me, Raymond.
Just once, let me
be the funny one.
And finally, it
is my great pleasure
to introduce the Nine-Nine
Zone Detective Scully
to serenade you.
This part always gets me.
Not a doctor. Shh!