Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jake is terrible at keeping secrets. It is a well-known fact that he can’t be trusted to keep anything to himself for longer than five minutes. When he smoked his first cigarette, he cracked under his mom’s questioning after a minute. And when he decided to ask Amy if she wanted them to find a place together, he managed a record-breaking eight and a half minutes before asking her.

So he should have known that deciding to propose to Amy was going to be a bitch of a secret to keep quiet.

“What are you doing?” Amy asks as he’s browsing Tiffany’s website and calculating whether he has enough in his savings account for any of their rings.

He jumps, slams his laptop shut and looks at her with what he hopes is a nonchalant look on his face. “What? Nothing. What are you doing?” His voice is an octave higher than normal and he curses himself for his lack of subtlety.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to go see a movie tonight. Is everything okay with you?”

“Why would…” He coughs and forces his voice to be deeper. “Why would anything be wrong?” Great, now he sounds like Holt.

“You’re being really weird.” She gives him a suspicious look before shaking her head and walking away.

When he’s certain that she’s left the room, he re-opens his laptop and resumes his ring search. Half an hour later and he’s staring at the perfect ring. It’s a round diamond set in a band filled with smaller diamonds. It’s beautiful and breath-taking, just like Santiago. Plus there’s the additional bonus of it being within his budget. He bookmarks the page in a folder named ‘NBA statistics’ and then clears the last hour of his browsing history just in case Amy decides to use his laptop.

He buys the ring two weeks later when Amy’s in New Jersey visiting her mom. The ring is even more perfect than it was on the website and he can easily imagine Amy wearing it on her left hand. It’s not too flashy and showy, making it practical for a job where they spend most days dealing with scumbags, but it sparkles in the light and feels like the perfect representation of how much he loves Amy.

Upon returning to their apartment, he finds himself stumped as to where to hide the ring. First he rolls it up in a pair of black socks and stuffs it at the back of his sock drawer. But that’s the most cliché hiding place possible. So he moves it to the back of their bathroom cabinet behind cans of shaving cream and bottles of cough medicine.

Of course luck would have it that three days later Amy develops a terrible cough that makes her sound like she’s about to cough up a lung. The moment they get back home, she charges off to the bathroom and he follows her to find her on her tiptoes nosing through the cabinet.

“Why are you in there?” he asks before trying to shove her away.

“Jake, stop it. I need cough medicine.”

“Let me find it for you.” He tries to reach in front of her but she pushes him away and frowns at him. “I know where stuff is.”

“So do I. I can do it myself.”

She sounds annoyed, even with her hoarse voice, and he’s left with no choice but to step back and watch as her fingers stretch perilously close to his hiding place. His heart is in his chest and he feels like he might throw up. But then her hand closes around the bottle of cough medicine and she pulls it down, ring undisturbed.

“What is with you lately?”

“I’m just worried about you. I know you hate being sick.”

She gives him a small smile before kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”

The moment she leaves the bathroom, he retrieves the ring box and shoves it in his trouser pocket. It’s not safe to leave the ring in their apartment, not when Amy could find it at any minute. Boyle would hide the ring for him but he knows his friend’s excitement at the impending engagement would give it away before the week was out. And Gina would happily keep it a secret for him but he also knows that she would gleefully drop hints to give him a heart attack and to mess with Amy. Plus there’s also a chance she would forget that the ring belonged to him and end up pawning it so she could buy Rihanna tickets.

Then the perfect hiding place occurs to him.

The next day the ring is burning a hole in his trouser pocket. But then Amy disappears into Holt’s office, Gina is suitably distracted by her own reflection and Boyle is in the evidence room. He pulls out his middle desk drawer, which is filled with rubbish, old food, forgotten junk and, for some reason, a pair of boxers covered in love hearts that he doesn’t even remember owning. It’s such a mess that he knows Amy will never go anywhere near it any time soon. Once she named his desk drawers a contamination zone and he knows she would rather spend an afternoon working a case with Hitchcock or Scully than go anywhere near the drawers. So he carves out a space right at the back behind a broken Rubix cube, making sure to cover the velvet box with a Hershey’s wrapper and a pack of pornographic playing cards just to be safe.

Now he just has to find a way to keep his plans to propose a secret. The 29^th will mark the tenth anniversary of him and Amy becoming partners. That’s three weeks away. Three weeks without spilling the beans or doing anything to make Amy suspicious. He knows he could be impulsive and ask her tonight. And he’s desperate to, both so he can stop keeping this massive secret and so he can finally ask her the question he’s wanted to ask her for years. But their anniversary is too perfect an opportunity to pass up. All he has to do is keep his mouth shut for three more weeks.

That should be simple.

Right?

Chapter Text

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit.

That line of thinking is pretty much all Amy is capable of as she stares at the two pink lines on the plastic stick that’s lying on the sink in front of her. She closes her eyes and wishes really hard that when she looks again one of those lines will have vanished. But when she opens her eyes the two lines are still there and she could swear that they are bolder than they were before.

She’s pregnant.

As those words replace her string of cursing, she picks up the stick and slides onto the floor of the bathroom, leaning her head back against the bathtub. The feeling of nausea and panic is overwhelming as she twists the stick in her hand and stares at the two lines that have just turned her world upside down.

It’s not that she never wants to have children but there’s a big difference between thinking about having them someday and having the prospect be less than nine months away. She grew up in a massive family and even though it was overwhelming and exhausting most of the time, she has always known she wants to have a big family; maybe not eight children big but still big. Sure her brothers can still be massive nuisances even though they’re all grown adults now but she loves them all the same. She can’t imagine what life would have been like growing up without all of her brothers around her. And Jake has often told her about how much he hated growing up with only his mum for company. When they had first started dating she had been a little jealous of his bond with Gina. But over the years she’s come to understand that Gina is the closest thing her husband has to a sister. So, yes, a big family is definitely in their future.

Future. As in at least two or three years from now when Jake and her have both made sergeant and she’s well on her way to being captain. They’ve been married for a little over a year. They’re not ready to have a baby.

Amy knows that wallowing on the bathroom floor isn’t going to get her anywhere so she forces herself up and heads for the kitchen. She automatically reaches for the coffee before changing her mind and picking up the herbal tea instead. Coffee wouldn’t be good for the baby. Baby. It’s such an abstract concept, the idea that there’s a little person growing inside her right now that’s half her and half Jake. A little person who can’t be exposed to coffee or alcohol and needs nutrients and all sorts of things that she’s expected to provide.

Brewing the tea is calming and she forces herself to focus on nothing but that. But it doesn’t take long and soon there’s a cup of tea in her hand and she’s got nothing to do but think about those two pink lines and the little person growing inside of her.

By her estimation said little person can only be about three weeks old. She’s normally pretty exact on taking her pill but there was a gruesome murder case – a yuppie mom had been found beheaded in her bathroom - at the start of the month that meant neither of them left the precinct for thirty-six straight hours. At one point she’d resorted to napping for half an hour in the records room just so she didn’t collapse on her feet. The captain had eventually  forced them to go home after Jake fell asleep in one of the meetings, telling them that Rosa and Boyle could continue the hunt for the husband while they slept. She can remember the two of them tumbling into bed still fully dressed without even bothering to get under the covers. And she can also remember the half-asleep sex that had happened the next morning as Jake blearily kissed her forehead and told her how much he loved her.  Sex in which Jake hadn’t bothered with a condom and she’d been too tired to think about how she hadn’t taken her pill in the past three days. They’d fallen back to sleep only to be awoken by a call that the husband was making a run for it and any thoughts of safe sex had vanished from her mind.

Of course safe sex doesn’t really matter now since there’s a baby inside of her.

By the time Jake gets home, she’s filled up three pages of a yellow legal pad with everything they’ll need to do if they can be remotely ready to have a baby in a little over eight months’ time.

“Amy,” he calls out as he unlocks the front door. “I bring takeout.”

“In here,” she shouts back, hoping he doesn’t pick up her high pitched tone.

But he’s Jake and he knows her better than anyone. “Why are you using your stressy voice?”

His hair is curling slightly from the rain and he’s wearing his glasses because he’s getting older now and the menu at their favourite takeout place uses an impossibly small font. Her favourite plaid shirt is accompanied by a garish red tie and he didn’t bother to shave this morning which means his kisses are going to scratch in a way that she’ll chide him for but secretly loves. He’s loaded down with steaming bags of Thai food and she knows he’ll have asked them to make her favourite dish especially even though they stopped offering it six months ago.  Because that’s the kind of stuff he does simply because he loves her.

This is the man she loves; for better for worse, for rich for poorer, till death do us part. He knows her better that she knows herself and he loves every single part of her, even her ridiculous organisational and people-pleasing skills – that was actually in his vows. Sure they work crazy hours and their spare bedroom is filled with all the things they still haven’t gotten around to unpacking. And yes neither of them knows how to change diapers or do any of the things that are required when caring for a tiny human. But she loves Jake and he loves her. Everything else they can figure out.

“You should sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.”  

Chapter Text

So here’s the thing. Amy doesn’t mean to keep her lunchtime activity a secret. Honestly she doesn’t. But when she gets back to the precinct and Jake asks her where she’s been, she tells him she ran into an old friend, which, in her defence, is the truth. Then Captain Holt calls a meeting and she doesn’t get a chance to explain any further. Also can she really be expected to stop in the middle of chasing down a perp to let her boyfriend know that the old friend she had lunch with is in fact her ex-boyfriend?

These are the things she tells herself as the delivery boy approaches her with a large bouquet of white roses, the exact flowers Teddy used to buy her.

“Amy Santiago?” the pimply teenager asks as he hovers by her desk, causing Jake to look up in confusion as he takes in the ornate bunch of flowers that he knows he didn’t send her.

“That’s me,” she says, definitely not avoiding Jake’s querying look as she accepts the bouquet and searches for a card. It’s nestled between two of the biggest roses and she opens it but before she can read it Jake is asking, “Who are they from?” and Gina is snatching the card from her grasp.

“Amy, thank you for lunch yesterday. It was lovely seeing you again. Teddy. And then a kiss,” Gina reads loudly to the entire precinct and Amy curses her irritatingly nosey friend. “Well, well, well, it seems like someone’s been a bad girl,” Gina laughs. But her tone is biting because this is Gina and Jake is the most important person in her life, after herself.

Finally Amy risks raising her head to look at Jake. Her boyfriend has never been difficult to read and this time is not different. The hurt and betrayal that are written all over his face make her heart ache. He looks like a wounded puppy that she’s just kicked and she hates herself.

“Jake,” she starts but he shakes his head and shoves his chair back from his desk, standing up and turning his back to her.

“Boyle, you need a secondary on your robbery investigation?”

“Um…” Boyle stares between his two friends, obviously torn over his loyalty to the pair, before nodding. “Sure.”

“Great. Let’s go do some door-to-door.”

Aside from paperwork, door-to-door has always been Jake’s least favourite part of the job. It normally takes a massive amount of persuading to get him to do it and now he’s happily volunteering.

“Jake, we need to talk,” Amy pleads but he ignores her, grabbing his leather jacket and telling Boyle he’ll meet him downstairs before walking out without a word to her.

“Oh, sweetie, you have fucked up bad,” Gina tells her as if she didn’t already know that. “Just so you know, if this is you guys breaking up then I choose Jake and I will make your life a living hell.” With that she saunters off leaving behind a panicking Amy.

Five hours later and Jake is neither answering his phone nor showing his face at the precinct. Boyle came back an hour ago mumbling something about Jake wanting to keep on questioning people alone. He phrases it politely but she knows he’s basically saying that her boyfriend would rather do anything than talk to her. Every text she’s sent has been ignored and her calls started going to voicemail after the first hour.

Eventually she decides that sitting around waiting for Jake to show up isn’t going to work. So she shrugs on her coat and says her goodbyes at exactly five o’clock, something that is practically unprecedented in her police career. It’s already dark outside as she hurries down the street, fruitlessly ringing Jake again only to hear his voicemail for the hundredth time, and when she reaches the subway she dithers over where to head. He has a key to her place, an exchange they made only last week, but she doubts he’ll go there with the mood he’s in. And she’s pretty sure he’ll have abandoned door-to-door about five minutes after Boyle left, which leaves her best bets being the bar or his apartment.

Her hope is that he’ll have chosen brooding on his sofa over drowning his feelings with alcohol. Normally drunk Jake is rather enjoyable, especially if its karaoke night, but a hurt Jake mixed with alcohol tends to lead to emotional messiness, hurt feelings and a hell of a hangover in the morning.

So she stands back when the train that’ll take her to the bar rolls into the station and waits patiently for the next one, cursing her lack of cell service underground.

It’s a ten minute subway ride to Jake’s followed by a five minute walk and Amy spends the whole time going over in her mind what she can say to fix this. She has to be able to fix this. Gina can’t be right; this can’t be her and Jake breaking up, not over something so silly. It took them long enough to get here. There’s no way she’s going to throw it away this easily.

Thankfully she’s rewarded for her quest by the sight of his apartment lights flickering. She could press the buzzer but she doubts that he’ll let her up and they did exchange keys for a reason. So she lets herself into his building, reasoning that she’ll knock at his front door and only let herself in if he refuses.

The sound of the TV is audible in the hallway and she knocks loudly, hoping he can hear her over it. Then there’s silence.

“Jake, it’s me. Can you let me in? We need to talk.”

At first there’s only more silence and she feels her heart race as she thinks about him not letting her in, not even giving her the chance to defend herself before he ends things. But then she hears footsteps growing louder and the door is swinging open.

As she takes in Jake’s face, she could swear that her heart breaks. His eyes are red and his face pale. If it’s possible, he looks even more hurt than he did earlier.

“We need to talk,” she repeats stepping forward and she tries not to feel hurt as Jake nods stiffly and steps back at her approach.

They move in awkward silence towards the couch and she wants to hold him but he purposefully sits away from her.

“Get it over with then,” he says, his voice gravelly and hard. Her confusion must be obvious on her face because he adds, “I’m not stupid, Amy. I might not be Teddy but I’m a pretty great detective. You’re here to break up with me because you and Teddy are getting back together so can you just get it over with please because I’m going to have some heavy drinking to get on with? Sorry if I’m not full of congratulations for you on your happy reunion.” His tone is cold and bitter and Amy would laugh at the ridiculousness of all of this if it wasn’t so sad.

“I’m not here to break up with you, you idiot.” She can’t resist calling him an idiot because did he really think she’d choose Teddy over him?

‘You did twice before’ her brain helpfully supplies and suddenly Jake’s panicked reaction makes sense.

“What?”

“I’m not here to break up with you. I came here to stop you breaking up with me.”

“What?” he repeats and god this is one of those times she really wishes her boyfriend could be a little more eloquent.

“I’ve spent the whole afternoon convinced you’re planning to dump me because I met up with Teddy.”

“Well I’ve spent the whole afternoon thinking you were getting ready to leave me for Teddy. That’s why I’ve been ignoring your calls.”

They stare at each other and she doesn’t know who laughs first but all of a sudden the two of them are laughing at their total idiocy.

“So just to clarify,” Jake says, “neither of us was planning on dumping the other.”

“No!”

“We really need to get better at communicating.” And isn’t that the truth. If she’d just told him about Teddy at the start then none of this would have happened.

“I should have told you that I ran into Teddy. It wasn’t planned or anything, you need to know that. I just happened to bump into him at the sandwich place and we ended up eating lunch together and catching up. That’s all. The reason that I didn’t tell you is that I was worried you’d overreact.” She pauses before finding herself unable to resist adding, “Obviously that wasn’t an issue,” in her most sarcastic tone.

“You still should have told me though.”

“I know. I should have done.”

“Would you have ever told me if those flowers hadn’t shown up today?”

“I…” She trails off because she’s not sure if saying she would have told him is actually a lie. “I don’t know.” This time Jake doesn’t say anything. Instead he simply watches her. “I guess I was scared about what you’d read into it. Teddy was this big thing between us for so long and I didn’t want you to worry that one lunch meant anything.”

“Amy, I was there. I saw how well you and Teddy fit together. I told you how I felt and you chose him over me. And then when I came back and said I still felt the same, nothing changed. Can you tell me you didn’t feel something at lunch with him?”

“Yes! I felt nothing. The whole time I was with him, all I could think about was how happy I was that I broke up with him and chose you.”

Jake’s face softens at that. “Really?”

“Really. I love you, you idiot.”

At her words his jaw slackens for a moment before a wide grin spreads across his face.

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You know that’s the first time you’ve said that to me.”

“Well it’s true. I love you, Peralta.” She leans in to kiss him but he stops her when her lips are mere millimetres from his.

“I love you too, Santiago.”

And then she’s kissing her and she swears her heart could burst from how lucky she feels to be loved by this ridiculous, emotional, wonderful man.

Chapter Text

Being pregnant is a rather unique of experience for Amy and she is only eleven weeks in. Jake and her made the decision to keep her pregnancy secret until she is out of the first trimester, and Amy has to admit she does rather enjoy them having such a colossal secret that is only theirs. In fact, she is amazed that her husband has managed to refrain from telling Boyle the news since those two are nigh on inseparable. They tell each other everything and yet somehow Jake has not yet told Boyle the news.

But, however much she loves keeping the secret with Jake, she would happily pass on a lot of the things that come with pregnancy such as the unrelenting morning sickness and irritating weight gain. Her breasts have already gone up a cup size - something Jake is over the moon about - but it feels like the rest of her body has expanded too. Just the morning before she had struggled to button up her favourite pair of work pants and eventually she had had to settle for wearing a longer shirt to cover their unbuttoned state.

The thing is that even when she fights to fit into her favourite clothes or swallow back a bout of morning sickness, she never really minds. Sure she grumbles because it tends to lead to Jake going to the bakery around the corner from the precinct and getting her favourite danish, but every morning she wakes up to the sight of their first ultrasound framed on their dresser and that little blur makes everything else not seem that bad after all. Somehow Jake and her have made this tiny blob that will be their baby in only a matter of months. She can handle some vomit and new clothes in exchange for that.

Though as Amy slumps over the toilet bowl, emptying the already empty contents of her stomach, she really wishes she could at least be done with the vomiting part of her pregnancy.

“I’ve got dry toast and decaff coffee,” Jake sings from outside the bathroom door before poking his head round and smiling sympathetically at the sight of his wife bent over the toilet.

“I hate this,” she whines as he fills up a glass with water and passes it to her. As she flushes the toilet, she gratefully takes the glass from him and gulps at it in the hope of ridding her mouth of its acidic taste.

Jake presses a kiss to the top of her forehead. “It’ll be over soon. And if it’s any consolation, you look great.”

“I’ve just thrown up my guts, I'm still in my pyjamas and my hair could be mistaken for a bird's nest. I look like a mess.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says, ignoring her protests, before leaning down and kissing her quickly, not even caring that her mouth still tastes like vomit.

“I thought we had an agreement that you let me brush my teeth before you try and kiss me in the morning. Vomity morning breath is not sexy,” she grumbles, reaching for her toothbrush.

“Santiago, you’re carrying my baby…because we had sex.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows suggestively and kisses her again. “That’s the sexiest thing in the world.”

Then he strolls out the bathroom leaving Amy behind with a dopey grin on her face at just how ridiculous her husband is.

Chapter Text

“I think it’s time we took you home,” Jake says, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist.

“You just want to get me into bed,” she slurs, leaning forward before stumbling so her attempt to kiss him ends with her pressing a kiss to his right eye instead. “Give me a twirl, sexy.”

He deftly steps to the right before she can pinch his butt. He loves his wife dearly but four drink Amy is a delight that he’d really rather keep within the privacy of their own home. Her drunken dancing to Partition at their last Christmas do is still seared into his brain.

“But I don’t wanna go,” she whines, reaching for another drink and winking at the bartender in a way that looks more like she’s having a fit than trying to flirt in exchange for free drinks.

Since his sensible approach isn’t working, Jake decides that the best course of action is to abandon his scruples and use his preferred approach when dealing with his wife in her more perverted state. He steps in closer to her so he’s pressed up against her back before slipping a hand underneath her shirt, his hands brushing over her warm skin. Almost instantly he hears her breath hitch and he allows his lips to brush against her neck as his hands climb steadily higher until he’s teasing the bottom of her bra.

“Jake,” she hums, her voice low and ridiculously sultry, and he curses the fact that they’re in a public place because he wants her so badly right now.

“Ames,” he murmurs back, his thumb skimming over her nipple and when he hears her breath hitch again, he knows he’s won.

The bartender stops in front of Amy and asks what she wants but she shakes her head, shooing him away, while grabbing Jake’s hand tightly.

“I want you,” she tells him as she turns in his arms so he can take in her dark eyes and flushed skin. Then she kisses him fiercely before tugging him towards the door of the bar with nothing but a wave at Gina and Rosa, the last two standing from their night out, and lips filled with promises of what is to come.

Yeah, four drink Amy is definitely his favourite.

Chapter Text

Amy glares at the bowl in front of her. Obviously someone has sold her some faulty equipment; it is the only way to explain the mess she is staring at. Well faulty equipment and her innate inability to cook anything. Her grandmother’s recipe states that the butter and eggs should cream together and there is even a picture of smooth golden batter to help even the worst of cooks know what that should like. However, instead of delicious looking cake batter, Amy is staring at something that looks more like vomit. No matter how much she stirs the ingredients and pleads with them to form something at least vaguely similar to the picture, the eggs and butter stubbornly refuse to mix.

Irritated, she brushes her hair away from her face and dumps the sugar into the bowl hoping that will hide her mistakes and force the items to finally create a passable attempt at cake batter. A frustrated yelp slips from her lips as a cloud of sugar flies up from the bowl covering both her and the kitchen top in even more of the ingredients that are supposed to be in the bowl.

Why is this so hard? This is her third attempt at making a birthday cake and it simply refuses to go right. When she had told her abuela that she wanted to make a birthday cake, she had immediately sent her an idiot-proof (“Amy-proof” Luca had helpfully chimed in) recipe for what was supposed to be a simple but delicious cake.

Simple – Amy snorts at that. This is anything but.

Her first attempt had looked alright when she poured into the cake tin. Not quite as golden and airy as the picture but a decent effort. She had loaded it into the oven feeling proud and a little smug because, see, this baking thing wasn’t that difficult. However, when she had removed it from the oven thirty minutes later, it looked nothing like the picture. Instead of a large, light, fluffy sponge cake, she had been presented with a cake that hadn’t risen even an inch and was as hard as a rock. So she had angrily tossed it away and started on her second attempt. That one had seemed more successful until she had followed her abuela’s instruction to poke the sponge to make sure it was cooked and it had sunk into a pile of uncooked cake goo at her touch.

Anyone else would have given up at this point but Amy had determinedly stomped down to the bodega across the street to buy more eggs and sugar for her third attempt, leaving her in the mess that she is currently in.

As she frantically stirs the ingredients, grumbling as even more sugar flies from the bowl, she hears a knock at the door followed by Jake calling her name, and she curses whoever let him in the building without warning her. Normally she'd be overjoyed to see her boyfriend but right now her kitchen is a mess and the cake is supposed to be a surprise and the last thing she wants is for him to see just how truly inept she is in the kitchen.

Opening the door, Jake smiles before taking in the sight of her covered in flour and wearing an apron she remembers making in home ec. He frowns and peers around her, taking in the sight of her kitchen.

There are dirty bowls and spoons and measuring jugs on every available surface and sugar seems to be coating every inch of the room, including both the floor and ceiling. The bag of flour that had exploded when she tried to open it has turned her normally pristine floor almost completely white and the whole room smells of burning.

“I can explain,” she starts but are there really words to describe the bombshell that is her kitchen?

“Please tell me you didn’t think it was wise to try cooking again. Didn’t we learn from the baking powder in the potatoes incident of 2013?” he asks as he toes off his shoes and steps carefully into the kitchen.

“Okay I still argue that was a fair mistake. They’re both white and why wouldn’t they be interchangeable?”

“Right,” Jake says in that tone he always uses with their crazier suspects. He reaches her and slips his hands around her waist before kissing her lightly. “You taste like sugar. What were you making?”

Suddenly she feels like she is six years old again and her dad has caught her sneaking a cookie before dinner and her cheeks flush.

“A birthday cake,” she mumbles against his neck.

“Didn’t quite catch that. A mmurmurmur?”

“I was trying to make a birthday cake,” she tells him, keeping her gaze firmly on Jake’s stripy socks that are now covered in sugar and flour.

“You made me a birthday cake?” and she can hear the smile in his voice.

When she looks up, he’s wearing that dopey grin that’s one of her favourites, and looking at her like she’s just told him the greatest thing in the world.

“It’s our first birthday as a couple and I wanted to surprise you but it keeps going wrong and I don’t understand how people do this.”

“You made me a birthday cake,” he repeats as if she hasn’t even spoken at all and he still sounds so stupidly happy about it.

“I tried to make you a birthday cake. Tried is the important word here.”

“No one’s even tried to make me a birthday cake since I was seven.”

Amy swears she falls a little more in love with him at that moment because he sounds so eager and excited but it breaks her heart that it’s been so long since anyone took the time to even try and make him a birthday cake. Jake deserves to have had a lifetime of homemade cakes to show him how loved he is. But she knows his mom had to spend Jake’s childhood working every hour of every day to keep their heads above water (just another reason to hate his crappy dad), and his nana definitely didn’t sound like the type of grandmother who baked.  In that moment she swears that she will figure out this baking thing – maybe she can get her abuela to give her lessons – and she’ll make sure Jake has a cake every birthday because someone as amazing as him deserves at least that much.

“Happy birthday, Jake,” she tells him before reaching up and kissing him softly.

He hums contentedly before kissing her properly, tugging her towards him and wrapping his arms tightly around her.

“You know, I’m liking this whole sugar thing you have going on, Ames.” He kisses her again before shifting and kissing her neck, humming again as he discovers another spot of sugar on her skin. He sucks at it and she lets out an embarrassingly loud moan that only makes him suck harder. His hands slip down from her waist until they’re resting on her ass and he squeezes firmly, causing her to shift against him. She can feel him growing hard against her leg and she tries to tug him towards the bedroom but instead he lifts her up, taking the opportunity to grope her ass as he does so, and lowers her onto the kitchen counter.

“Jake, we cannot have sex in the kitchen. We have to meet everyone for your birthday dinner in an hour.” Her voice doesn’t sound anywhere near as forceful as she wants it to and Jake seems more focused on unbuttoning her shirt than listening to her protests.

“Well that’s not the attitude, is it?” he says as he pulls off her shirt and litters kisses along her chest. She can feel her resolve weakening because how can she think properly when Jake has got one hand on her breast and the other steadily moving up her thigh? “It’s my birthday.” He licks his finger and dips it into the bag of sugar before trailing it across her cleavage, leaving a streak of sugar on her breasts. “We can totally have sex in the kitchen on my birthday. You can’t deprive the birthday boy of what he wants.” Then he’s dipping his head and sucking the sugar from her skin and she supposes he has a point. It is his birthday after all.

Chapter Text

Amy fiddles one more time just as the elevator dings to announce her arrival. She keeps her head down as she hurries past Hitchcock and Scully’s still empty desks but her delay this morning means Gina’s already sat at her desk along with her sense to detect others’ embarrassment.

 “Oh my god you look hideous.” Gina’s voice rings out across the bullpen the moment Amy gets to her desk. “Did you think it was national dress like a grandma day?”

At her voice, Rosa and Charles both look up and take in Amy’s appearance.

“Are you wearing your grandma’s glasses?”

Amy frowns and drops down into her chair. She turns her back on them and starts up her computer hoping they’ll drift back to whatever they were doing before she arrived. However she can feel their gazes on the back of her head and she sighs.

 “If you must know, I slept over at a friend’s house and forgot my contacts.”

“Your friend has arrived,” Gina laughs and Amy looks up to see Jake strolling out of the elevator with Terry, two cups of coffee in hand. “We all know you were doing the nasty with Jake last night, sweetie.”

Amy wrinkles her nose at her turn of phrase.

“Yeah did you think we didn’t know that?” Rosa eyes her as she flicks through a case file. “You guys aren’t subtle about it.”

“Well this seems like an excellent conversation.” Jake passes her one of the cups of coffee and, in a rare display of public affection, he kisses the top of her head before dumping his bag and starting towards the evidence locker.

“We were just appreciating Amy’s glasses,” Boyle chimes in. “And that you got lucky last night. That’s my boy!” Boyle holds up a fist but Jake shakes his head and walks away, leaving Boyle to drop it in disappointment.

Thankfully Gina is soon distracted by her phone or her own reflection, and Amy turns her attention to the case files on her desk. However, before she even gets logged into the system, her phone buzzes. It’s a text from Jake.

Jake: need 2 talk 2 u in the evidence locker. v urgent

She wants to tell him that she’s working but Holt is late in and she can’t help but feel a tiny flare of panic at the text. Things have been great these past three months but a small part of her always seems to be waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Jake to get tired of her and her boring life.

Scooping up her case file under the pretence of work - and she could really do with getting one of the evidence bags from the crime scene - she heads to the evidence locker, her cheeks warming slightly as she sees Rosa roll her eyes.

“Jake?”

The evidence locker is empty. But then she feels a hand around a waist and she can’t help but jump.

“Come on, you’re a detective. You can’t be jumping at every little thing.”

“Well I wasn’t expecting to get ambushed in the evidence locker.”

He doesn’t reply. Instead she finds herself pressed up against the door as he kisses her fiercely, his lips warm and insistent against hers.

Eventually he breaks away and rests his forehead against hers. “What was that for?”

“You look cute in those glasses,” he smiles.

“Did you bring me in here just so we could make out?” Her voice doesn’t sound as disapproving as she had hoped and she shivers as Jake’s hands slip under her shirt.

“Partly.” He kisses her again. “Also because I wanted to know how our sex life came up before nine am.”

She does blush at that and she buries her face against his neck, her skin rubbing against a patch of stubble he must have missed while shaving earlier.

“Gina noticed my glasses. I tried to cover but-“

“But you’re a terrible liar? Pretty much the worst liar ever?”

“Shut up.”

“You know,” he says, rubbing her back as he leans against her. “There is a solution to you forgetting things at your place.”

She knows they need to get back to work but she allows herself indulge for moment and idly plays with his hair. His body is warm against hers and she thinks she could happily stay like this forever.

“And what’s that?”

He stops and tenses under her hands.

“You could start leaving some stuff at my place.” His voice is quiet. “It’s fine if you don’t want to but I figure we spend half our time at my place anyway and it seems silly for you to keep bringing everything with you and-“

He’s rambling and she settles for silencing him with a kiss, enjoying the way he startles as her lips meet his. He takes a moment to respond but then he’s kissing her back, tugging her body against his and wrapping his arms around her waist.

When they eventually part, both a little flushed and out of breath, he grins at her.

“So is that a yes?”

She nods and matches his grin. His own grows even wider and she can’t help but relish the excitement in his eyes. So she kisses him again and she can’t bring herself to care that they both miss Holt arriving or that Rosa comments on their lack of evidence bags when they both emerge from the locker (two minutes apart because what is this, amateur hour?).

And that night, when she puts her new toothbrush next to Jake’s on the sink, she thinks this might just be the happiest she has ever been.

Chapter Text

The first thing Amy is aware of as she slowly awakens is the smell of coffee drifting from somewhere next to her. Blearily opening one eye, she sees the familiar blue NYPD mug resting on the nightstand and the tendrils of steam rising from it, letting her know it’s freshly made and calling her name. As she rolls over and picks up the mug, the second thing to creep into her consciousness is the sound of the shower turning on. The other side of the bed is empty and Jake’s tuneless whistling is barely audible over the sound of the water starting.

On a weekday, whether they are at hers or his, Amy is up the moment her first alarm sounds while Jake futilely resists any and all attempts to join the land of the living. Her morning routine is accompanied by the sounds of her boyfriend groaning and grumbling under the pillows he’s buried himself in until he finally pulls himself out of bed when she is already on her second cup of coffee and writing her day’s to do list. However, the weekends are a different story. Jake wakes up at the crack of dawn on Saturdays, bounding off to watch cartoons or go and play basketball with old friends from the academy. Meanwhile Amy sleeps, immune to any and all disturbances he may try and use to force her to join him. He told her once that he played rap music at full volume and she slept right through it. She’s not sure if she believes him.

Saturdays are the one morning she indulges in lie-ins and laziness. The coffee warms her insides as she gulps it, not caring as it scalds her throat and burns her tongue, before placing the cup on the bedside table and curling back up under the covers. She stretches her legs out and wiggles her toes, enjoying the luxury of having the bed all to herself. Jake is a big fan of snuggling and she’s gotten used to falling asleep in a mess of tangled limbs while his heavy weight presses against her. It’s comforting to feel his breath on her neck and his arms around her waist, but every so often she likes her space.

The third thing Amy becomes aware of as she spreads out under the covers is that she is freezing.

Summer is long gone in New York and November has brought chilly winds and rainy days with it. Her winter coat has come out of storage and she swears she saw frost on her way into work last week. Jake is apparently immune to the cold though. While she pads around in hoodies and thick leggings, he sprawls out on the sofa in nothing but his boxers. Not that she is complaining about that. However, being his own personal furnace means Jake is still sleeping under a cotton sheet and is utterly ignorant to the fact that his girlfriend is freezing at night.

Kicking the sheet away, Amy forces herself out of bed and navigates her way down the ladder and towards the bathroom as sounds of her boyfriend’s warbling vocals echo through his apartment.

“Jake,” she calls out, poking her head round the door. Beads of sweat instantly form on her brow as she is hit by the wave of heat and she contemplates climbing in the shower with him. Purely in the name of warming up of course.

“Yeah?” The cubicle door opens slightly as his head appears, his hair soapy with shampoo which is slowly trickling down his cheeks.

“Have you got any heavier bedding, winter stuff?”

He frowns for a moment. “I think there’s some in the hall closet from last winter.”

She turns to leave before changing her mind, her brain finally awake enough to appreciate the sight of a wet and naked Jake, and making her way across the small bathroom. His kiss is soft and she can taste the minty freshness of his toothpaste.

“You could join me.” He waggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs.

“Morning breath. Plus you wore me out last night,” she add as she steps back out into the chilly living area with his laughter echoing behind her.

Surprisingly there actually are flannel sheets in the closet. Unlike Amy’s own sheets which are white and always neatly folded in her laundry closet, Jake’s are buried underneath some old magazines and a box Amy recognises as the blender Charles gave him a few months ago. They’re haphazardly folded and she can easily picture him shoving them in the storage closet on his way back from the dryer, not concerned with the state they would be in when they were next needed. They feel thick and warm in her hands though and the pattern, dark blue plaid, is totally Jake.

Scooping her prize up under her arm, she pushes the rest of the chaos back into the closet and navigates her way back to his bedroom. The old bedding is stripped from the bed and piled in the corner ready for laundry day and she eagerly unfolds the fitted sheet, throwing it open and watching in satisfaction as it drifts down over the mattress. She moves towards the bed to start tugging the sheet into place. Then she stops.

In the middle of the bed, in glaring contrast to the dark blue material around it, is a pair of panties.

Her chest tightens but she forces herself to sit down on the bed and reach for the underwear, the static causing it to resist and try to cling to the sheet. The thong is little more than a scrap of scarlet red lace but it looks expensive, the kind of underwear Amy never buys because it’s impractical and uncomfortable. It’s the type of underwear designed for seduction, to be seen and quickly removed.

That thought sends a wave of nausea crashing through her and she feels the bile rise in her throat. The sheets have been kept buried in the closet for months, most likely laundered and folded away the moment Jake felt the tiniest speck of heat in the air, and she knows the last time he would have slept on them. Who he would have slept on them with.

An image of Sophia in the lacy thong, and no doubt matching bra, pops into her head and the breath slams out of Amy’s chest. Gorgeous, smart, funny, perfect Sophia. Sophia who had been everything Jake needed and had been so perfect that she’d left Jake’s feelings for Amy in the dust.

Running a hand through her hair, she forces herself to breathe. She has no right to have any reaction to the panties. Her and Jake were nothing when he was with her. He had every right to date and sleep with whoever he wanted. She made that clear when she brushed off his feelings and squashed her own. What he did before they were together is none of her business.

Yet the nausea rises as jealousy gnaws inside of her.

An onslaught of visuals forms in her brain. Sophia standing in this very bedroom in the offending underwear. Jake’s face as he sees her in them, delight and lust flooding his features. Him pulling her down onto the bed and kissing her the way he kisses Amy now. Crawling down her body and muttering compliments into her thighs as he rubs her through the thin lace and watches her as her breath hitches at his touch. Sliding the panties off and carelessly discarding them before delving into her, kissing and tasting her the way he has Amy, leaving the underwear forgotten in the sheets until this moment.

She presses her palms against her eyes so hard that everything blurs and spots dance in her vision. The images fade but her stomach continues to churn and she can practically hear Sophia moaning Jake’s name as he makes her cum, as he makes her feel like the only woman in the world.

Jake makes her feel special. Whenever they’re in bed, he looks at her like the most amazing thing he has ever seen. He murmurs dirty things and sweet things against her skin as he brings her to orgasm, and Amy has never felt more loved than she has with Jake.

She thought she was special. But maybe that's just how Jake is with every woman he has in his bed.

She sees Sophia riding him while he kisses her skin and tells her how beautiful she is.

It’s ridiculous. She is being ridiculous.

Yet the jealousy swells within her as she imagines Jake groaning Sophia’s name the way he does hers while Sophia’s nails scrape down his back just like Amy's do.

Her head swirls as the pain aches in her chest. She’s never going to be a red lace thong. Amy is black cotton panties. They’re dependable and sensible and comfortable. Whereas the red lace thong is excitement and lust and desire. That’s not her; it never has been. She’s sensible and boring.

How long until Jake gets bored of her and starts craving red lace again? Jake lives his life at full throttle. He throws himself into every single thing and never looks back. Amy takes her time and weighs every decision but Jake puts his heart into everything and, if it doesn’t work, he simply brushes himself off and starts over. He won’t always be satisfied by Amy’s careful and slow attitude to life. One day he’s going to wake up and realise he’s missing out on the thrill and excitement of someone like Sophia.

The thought hits her hard and she chokes back a guttural sob.

“Ames? What are you doing up there?”

Jake climbs the ladder, his wet hair curling at the ends, and eyes her. She wonders what she looks like sitting on an unmade bed with another woman’s panties on her lap. His gaze drops and she knows the moment he registers what she’s holding, his expression shifting to one of panic.

“Amy, whatever you think, it’s not that. I don’t know where you found those but…”

“I know.” She cuts him off. She knows Jake wouldn’t cheat. Above all else he is decent and kind, and cheating isn’t something that would ever even pass his mind. “I found them in these sheets. They must be from last winter.”

She watches his face closely and she can tell he’s thinking back trying to place the panties in that time. Something clicks, a moment of recognition, and she knows he’s seeing Sophia in them. The bile burns her throat.

“Oh, yeah, they’re…” His voice trails off leaving the sentence unfinished.

She finishes it for him. “Sophia’s. I figured.”

He watches her warily, trying to gauge her reaction and what he’s supposed to do. “Are you okay?”

“I-“ She tries to find the words but nothing seems right. And then, to her horror, she feels the tell-tale sting of tears in her eyes. Jake moves towards her but she darts up and out of his way, leaving him hovering in front of the empty bed. “Don’t.”

“What’s wrong? That underwear is from almost a year ago.”

She brushes at the hot tears starting to spill down her cheeks. “I know. I know that.”

“Are you mad?”

“No. No, I’m not mad.” She doesn’t know what she is. “You were with Sophia and that’s fine. You had every right to be with someone else. I was with Teddy and I was too scared to do anything about my feelings for you. I’m not mad that you were with someone else.”

Jake sits down on the bed, still watching her carefully, and there’s enough space left for her but she stays standing, hovering halfway between the window and the ladder. She’s a mess but she needs to get her jumbled thoughts out. Jake and her have been together for six months and they’ve danced around so much of the messiness of the past year and a half without ever really talking about it. They’ve been so swept up in being a them that they haven’t talked about half the things they’ve needed to. Amy is scared, terrified, that this is all going to go wrong soon. And she’s tired of being scared.

“It’s just…You were so happy with Sophia. I saw you two together at the inn with the naked pictures and the creepy room, and I saw how happy you were at work just because you were with her. She was perfect for you. I hate that you were with her, which I know is petty and selfish of me, but that’s the way it is. And I know you hated that I was with Teddy so that’s fine; we’re both equal. I can deal with that. But sometimes I worry you’re going to wake up one day and realise you made a mistake. I’m not Sophia or any other woman that’s perfect for you.”

When she’s finished she can’t bring herself to look at Jake so she fixes her gaze on the floor instead. Her heart pounds in her ears and she feels the encroaching embarrassment that comes whenever she allows herself to get too emotional. Her older brothers had mercilessly tortured her every time she got upset as a child and, while she has worked hard to be more open with her emotions as an adult, she still feels embarrassment and shame after an outburst.

From her viewpoint of the wooden floor, she hears Jake standing up followed by footsteps. Then there’s silence. Steeling herself, she looks up to find the bedroom empty.

“Jake?” she calls out, her heart sinking at his reaction to her words.

Except then she hears a cupboard slamming downstairs followed by Jake shouting, “Get down here.”

Confused, she makes her way down the ladder to find Jake standing in front of the storage closet, rooting through a cardboard box that’s balancing on his thigh. He pulls a notebook from it triumphantly and shoves it at her.

“Jake-“

“When I went undercover, this FBI psychologist told me I should keep a  journal because apparently people get all kinds of messed up when they’re pretending to be someone else. I only wrote in it like three times because Gina would have mocked me mercilessly if she found out I kept one.”

“What does this have to do with…?” She gestures up towards the bedroom.

“Read the last entry.”

He offers no more than that so she opens the journal with a sigh, skimming over the first two entries before finding the final one. It’s dated Monday April 7^th 2014, two weeks after he left. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jake fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt and eyeing her nervously, forcing her to turn her attention to the messy scrawl she knows so well.

This journal thing is stupid. Feelings are stupid.

I went out with Leo to some shitty bar and drank a lot of whiskey and now I can’t stop thinking about Amy. I met her seven years ago today but I don’t remember what my life was like before her. I’ve totally fucked things up between us now. God I miss her. She’s probably with Teddy tonight and I’m sat here moping like an idiot.

I know Rosa’s advice would be to get drunk (check), find a total stranger and bone down but that all seems kind of pointless when there’s Amy. It’s been two weeks and I already miss her smile and her grumbling at me for whatever I’ve done wrong. For ages she was just my partner who I liked to annoy but I get what Taylor was writing all those songs about now.

If I never see her again, I hope she knows that I meant what I said to her. She’s the only woman I want.

The rest of the entry is gibberish and all the other pages are blank. When she looks up, Jake is staring at her in that way that makes her heart feel like it’s going to burst out of her chest and she knows, she just knows, that he’s never looked at Sophia like that.

“Yes I was with Sophia. I tried to convince myself I was in love with her. That was the only way I could make myself move on from you. But now I'm with you and I can see that I was with her for all the wrong reasons. It wasn't fair to her. I was using her as a way to stop myself feeling everything I felt for you. It was a shitty thing to do but I didn't even realise I was doing it until I had the real thing to compare it to. Because now I'm with you and it's incredible. The idea that I would ever wake up and think that being with you is a mistake is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. When I was undercover, the thing that kept me going was knowing that I would get to see you again. And now I get to wake up next to you every day because I’m the luckiest guy on the planet. There’s only woman who is perfect for me and it’s you.”

She wants to be coherent and say something, anything, that could match Jake’s words but her brain fails her and all she manages is, “Why?”

“Because you’re Amy Santiago. You’re a badass cop and a brilliant friend. You don’t take any of my crap and you make me want to be a better man. You’re the most important person in my life. I don’t want anyone else. And I never will. I’m sorry if that scares you. I know it’s only been six months but it’s the truth. You’re it for me.”

She does start crying then, embarrassingly loud sobs, and she feels Jake hug her tightly as she tries to compose herself while smearing tears and snot on his shirt. He doesn’t let go, only holding her tighter, as he lowers them to the floor until they’re both sat down and she is curled against him.

“I’m sorry I over-reacted,” she mumbles against his chest and she feels rather than sees him shake his head.

“You didn’t over-react. Maybe Teddy and Sophia are always going to be sore spots for us and maybe that’s okay. We just have to remember that that’s in the past. I love you. That’s what’s important now.”

“I love you too.”

She leans back and smiles up at him before kissing him. It’s a soft and simple kiss, the kind of kiss filled with the promise to kiss like that every day for the rest of your lives. Jake smiles back at her and wipes away some of her tears.

“How about you get dressed and we go to Bed, Bath and Beyond to buy some new sheets?”

“Fresh start sheets?”

“Exactly.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He jumps up off the floor and holds out a hand to help her up which she takes distractedly, her mind elsewhere.

“You know,” she says slowly, wincing at the ache in her knees. “If we went to Macy’s instead then we could stop at Victoria’s Secret as well.”

The look on Jake’s face lets her know he approves. Maybe Amy Santiago is boring, comfortable black cotton. But maybe she can find a little room for some lace in her life too.

Chapter Text

Amy isn’t entirely sure how she gets roped into hosting a New Year’s Eve party. Normally her New Year’s is spent with her family or curled up on the sofa at home. Back in 2007, when she was new to the Nine-Nine and eager to fit in, she’d gone to a party a uniform was throwing and she had sworn never to do that again. Except now her small apartment is filled with friends from work, their loved ones and friends, and people she doesn’t even recognise.

Everything precious to her is stored away and her bedroom has a neatly printed ‘Do Not Enter’ sign on it but her apartment is still reaching a level of chaos that makes her distinctly uncomfortable. It’s almost midnight and there are alcohol bottles on every surface, potato chips crushed into the carpet and for some reason Scully thought it would be a good idea to bring silly string. Amy can already feel her anxiety rising at the mess she’s going to be facing tomorrow morning and she can feel her fingers itching to grab a coaster and shove it at Charles before he places his drink down on her coffee table and leaves a mark.

“And breathe,” comes a voice to her left and she feels Jake slide his arm around her waist. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Worrying is not allowed on this night.”

Twisting in his arms, she smiles up at him before taking a sip of his drink. “Is that an official rule?”

He nods. “Everyone knows New Year’s Eve is a night for drinking a lot, having fun and making out with someone at midnight.”

The clock on her mantle signals that there is only one minute of 2015 left and everyone is shifting a little closer to the TV, the volume inching up higher and higher as Ryan Seacrest begins the countdown.

“Is that right? And who were you planning to kiss?”

Carefully he places his drink on a spare coaster on the side before wrapping his other arm around her and pulling her closer to him.

“Well  I was thinking about kissing this particularly cute girl that I’ve got a bit of a crush on.”

“Really? That’s funny because I was planning on kissing a rather adorable guy that I’ve got a bit of a crush on.”

The rest of the room blurs away until all she is focusing on is Jake and the faint countdown in the background. He’s in need of a haircut and it’s curling at the ends. Her fingers itch to touch it. Then she feels a wonderful rush of satisfaction at the knowledge that she is free to and she reaches up, letting her fingers get lost  in his dark curls. Jake is looking at her with his usual intensity and it still makes her knees weak, even after seven months of waking up beside him. Sometimes she has to pinch herself  to remember that this is all real and she is free to touch him and kiss him whenever she likes. Last New Year’s she had rejected her family’s invitations and Kylie’s pleas to come to some hideous club, choosing instead to see in the new year alone on her sofa with a large glass of red wine. While Jake had been at a fancy black tie event with Sophia, she had thrown a one woman pity party before vowing to start the new year afresh with no more pining or wallowing over her partner or her single status. If someone had told her who she would be seeing in the next new year with, she would have found the whole idea impossible.  

“10…9…”

“God I really hope we’re both talking about who we think we’re talking about or this could get super embarrassing.”

“8…7…”

“Shut up, Jake.”

“6...5…”

“Do you really want that to be the last thing you ever say to me in 2015?”

“4…3…”

She smiles.

“I love you, Jake.”

“2…”

A sappy grin forms on his face and her stomach squirms happily.

“I love you too.”

“1…”

He kisses her causing the sounds of the room to become mere background noise as Amy’s hands grip his shoulders and she kisses him back. Her eyes flutter shut allowing her to focus on nothing but kissing Jake. As he deepens the kiss, her nails scratch as his scalp while his hands cling to her hips, tugging her closer. Eventually he breaks away with a sigh and rests his forehead against hers.

“Happy New Year, Ames.”

“Happy New Year, Jake.”

Then there’s a flash and they both startle before turning to see Charles with his phone pointing straight at them.

“You two are adorable!” he squeals before darting away, taking the photo that will inevitably end up on Facebook with him.

“I guess some things will always stay the same no matter what the year,” Jake mutters before grabbing them two glasses of champagne and slipping a hand back around her waist.

The rest of the party is little more than a blur. Amy is pretty sure Gina gets to meet seven-drink Amy but all she really remembers is Jake carrying her to bed as their last few guests trail out and her complaining about all the mess.

Her next conscious thought is that she really should have closed the curtains before falling asleep. January sun is streaming in through the bedroom window and Amy tugs a pillow over her face before groaning loudly. Her head is pounding, her throat feels all scratchy and there’s a terrible taste in her mouth which she thinks has something to do with whatever cheap Bulgarian wine Hitchcock had bought to the party. A quick peek from underneath her pillow confirms that it is almost twelve o’clock. It is the first day of 2016 and she is already behind on her to do list.

With a groan, she recalls that there is aspirin in her bathroom cabinet and an almighty mess awaiting her outside. When she had been in college, she had always been vocally against her and her roommates being the ones to throw parties. Even when they promised to clean up the morning after, she was always the one left holding the trash bag or mopping up vomit from the living room floor.

Her whole body aches and it feels like there’s a marching band performing in her head but her apartment won’t clean itself.

Taking a deep breath, she forces herself to sit up before cursing as her headache worsens.

“There’s no need for that kind of language.”

Jake walks in looking far better than Amy feels and there’s a mug of coffee as well as a bottle of aspirin in his hand. He holds them out to her and she murmurs her appreciation before swallowing two aspirin and a good amount of the hot coffee.

“How much did I drink last night?”

His face is positively gleeful. “So much. Seven drink Amy is amazing.”

“Oh god,” she moans as she pushes away the covers and attempts to stand up.

“Go back to bed. We have the day off and have nothing to do.”

“I need to clean up after last night. I can’t go back to sleep knowing all that mess is out there.”

“I’ve already cleaned up.”

“What?”

“I woke up a couple of hours ago and thought I’d save you the trouble.”

All she can manage to do is stare at him in disbelief. Jake Peralta, the man who spent a decade driving a car that smelt like old cheese and who believed in changing his sheets once every two months until Amy refused to go near his bed, has cleaned her apartment.

Ignoring the protests of both Jake and her head, she forces herself out of bed and trudges out of the bedroom.

The living room and kitchen are spotless. All the debris from last night, from the empty bottles  and broken glasses to the streamers and take away containers, is gone. Her furniture is back where it should be and every surface is clean and organised. Even the smell of alcohol and Gina’s perfume has vanished, replaced with the lemony scent of her all-purpose cleaner.

“You did this?”

Jake looks abashed and scratches the back of his neck, giving her a shrug and small smile.

“I know how you get about things being clean and I figured the last thing you’d want is to start the new year sorting out all this mess.”

Amy has been in four serious relationships in her life. There was Jack in college who took her to Disneyland for their first anniversary. She’d broken up with him when he announced he was moving to London and would an open long-distance relationship be okay? Next there was Mark when she was twenty-five who introduced her to his parents as the girl he was going to marry. That lasted two years until she caught him in bed with his assistant.  Then there was Teddy who took her to the Berkshires for the perfect romantic weekend complete with antiquing and wine tasting and whose break-up still makes her cringe in embarrassment.

But all of those romantic gestures pale in comparison to this. The fact that Jake would even think to wake up the night after a party and clean, something he hates doing, so she doesn’t have to makes her heart ache and he almost falls over as she throws herself at him and kisses him as fiercely as she can.

And in that moment, as Jake kisses her while his skin smells like Lysol lemon breeze and her rubber gloves hang out of his back pocket, Amy realises that this is it; this is the man she is going to spend the rest of her life with.

Chapter Text

Even with the heating on full blast and a thermal top underneath her shirt, Amy can’t help but shiver at her desk as she stifles a sneeze and sniffs.

“Captain?” comes a voice from the other side of her office door and she sighs before signalling for Detective Walsh to enter.

“What can I-“ Her sentence trails off as her nose starts to tickle and she sneezes loudly. “What can I do for you?”

The detective takes a visible step back and eyes his commanding officer carefully.

“You need to go home. You are sick and you are going to make everyone else sick. Go home and sleep.”

“I’m fine.” Her statement would probably be more effective if her nose wasn’t so blocked that ‘fine’ didn’t sound more like ‘fid.’

“Ma’am, we can handle any cases that come in. It’s a light load at the moment and the Sarge can take charge.  You are not doing anyone any good by being here. In fact your sneezing is just acting like a distraction.”

“May I remind you I’m your boss?”

“No, right now you’re just a stubborn person who is ill and won’t listen to reason and go home.”

When Amy had taken command of the five-two, she had immediately taken notice of Walsh, a sharp-tongued detective who worked hard and took no bullshit. Holt had advised her to surround herself with people who wouldn’t simply suck up to her, and Walsh had proven himself time and time again to be willing to call her out when he disagreed with her.

“Walsh-“

“Go. Home.”

It takes a few more protests and some stubborn glares from her subordinate but eventually she gives in and heads home. Walsh confiscates her car keys, refusing to allow her to drive home when she looks so ill, and forces her into a cab with a half-hearted promise to call her if something massive comes up.

Her head feels stuffed with cold and she leans her forehead against the cool window as the cab heads towards Park Slope. She’d dragged herself out of bed this morning, ignoring her husband pointing out that she should do the same as the rest of the family and stay home. Stupidly she had thought she could make it through the day without succumbing to the same illness that has spread through her family. Instead she feels a million times worse than she did this morning and now she’s going to have to put up with Jake telling her ‘I told you so.’

As the cab pulls up outside the townhouse, she feels her body physically ache at the thought of all the stairs standing between her and her bed. Everything feels so blurry that she doesn’t even check how much she hands over to the driver before stumbling out of the cab. It takes her a hideously long time to drag herself up the stone steps and the lock seems to keep moving as she fights to get her key into it.

“Hello? Anyone home?” she calls out as she toes off her shoes, balancing against the wall to keep herself from falling to the ground, but there is no answer.

The family room and kitchen both come up empty but there are remnants of what looks like an attempt at making lunch on the counter and a box of lego scattered across the living room carpet. Bracing herself, she makes her way up the stairs, stopping twice to sneeze violently, and stumbles ungracefully towards her and Jake’s bedroom.

The sight that greets her makes her stop.

The TV is playing and Amy easily recognises the garish colours of The Lego Movie, causing her to bite back a groan at the knowledge that it will lead to both Tommy and Jake singing its irritatingly catchy song for the next week. For now though it’s muted, leaving the room’s inhabitants undisturbed.

Said inhabitants are sprawled across her bed, fast asleep and totally unaware of her arrival. Jake is sleeping in the middle, his hair in wild disarray and his breathing heavy. He’s wearing the old NYPD shirt she always like to steal on Sunday mornings and he’s surrounded by a sea of crumpled tissues. Nestled against his side is Tommy, his head buried in his dad’s arm. She can hear his little snores from where she stands and her heart aches at the sight of his dinosaur onesie and his wild curls. He’s long overdue for a haircut but she can’t bring herself to cut off his baby curls.

The final member of the nap party is Emma who is lying on Jake’s chest, her tiny hand clutching tightly to his t-shirt while Jake’s hand rests on her back as though he fell asleep rubbing soothing circles there.

The sight of the three of them all fast asleep together makes her heart melt and she pulls her phone out of pocket to take a quick picture before creeping over to join them. She doesn’t even bother to change out of her uniform, instead choosing to simply lie down next to them, not caring as her badges dig into her chest.

Emma murmurs slightly, sensing her mom’s presence first, and she nuzzles into Jake’s chest before falling quiet again. Then Jake mumbles quietly as well and his eyes blink open. He looks over at Amy half asleep and wrinkles his brow.

“What are you doing home?”

Carefully he raises his hand from Emma’s back, trying to regulate his breathing so as not to disturb their daughter, and rubs sleep from his eyes.

“I felt like I was going to die so I came home.” He gives her a look. “Walsh forced me to leave before I got everyone else ill.”

The smirk he gives her is enough of an I told you so and she snuggles into his side, sniffing as she does so.

“How are you feeling?”

“I could breathe for about three minutes or so earlier,” Jake whispers, idly rubbing circles on her back. “Tommy is doing a little better but Emma is really bad. Trying to feed her her bottle earlier was a nightmare. She cried the whole time.”

The obvious guilt in his voice makes her heart pang and she presses a kiss to his chest. When she found out she was pregnant with Tommy, Jake had spiralled over fear that he would turn out to be a crappy dad just like his father. Yet from the moment he held their son, Jake had spent every day making sure he was safe and loved. And when their daughter had been born, his love had only grown. Every day she wakes up and feels grateful that she chose to give her children Jake as their father.  

She yawns and allows her eyes to fall close for a moment.

“Go to sleep, Ames.”

There’s laundry to be done and she hasn’t yet been grocery shopping this week. Jake’s mom is coming for dinner tomorrow and she needs to buy her dad’s birthday present. She may have an unexpected afternoon off work but her to do list is still horrendously long. However, as she rests against her husband’s chest and listens to the three most important people in her life breathing together, she lets her eyes flicker close again.

In her sleep, Emma reaches out and closes her other hand around a strand of Amy’s hair while Jake continues to rub her back. And as she falls asleep, Amy feels wholly content.

Chapter Text

On one particular Tuesday in November, Amy does a number of unusual things.

 Instead of waiting for Jake to be ready for work, she heads into the precinct before he is even awake in order to get a head start on sorting through the evidence that has come in for her drugs case. It is early enough that the night janitor is still pottering around with the stench of alcohol trailing behind him and the lights in their bullpen are off. She settles in at her desk with a cup of Rosa’s dark roast in her favourite mug, enjoying the rare silence of the building.

This is the second unusual thing she does.

Rosa’s protectiveness over her can of rich and expensive coffee is well-known throughout the precinct. An uninformed uniform had once helped himself to a cup and he had never appeared on their floor again. However, Amy’s brain is sluggish as her computer bursts to life and she can feel the tiredness itching at the back of her eyes. She has been working on this case for a month now with no arrests of any kind and she likes to think her colleague would understand her helping herself to a cup for the first time in years.

It also helps that said colleague won’t be in for another two hours, leaving Amy free to finish her drink in peace, thoroughly wash her mug and chew at least three pieces of gum to rid herself of any trace of the coffee.

Neither of those two unusual things are the ones that have Amy sat stunned at seven am on a Tuesday morning though.

That is due to the third event.

Armed with a highlighter, she begins to pore over the long list of times and dates she has for her suspect’s phone logs. However, the pen barely makes it through the first date before it fades out, leaving Amy to elicit a groan of frustration and root through her desk for a spare. The search comes up empty.

A memory of Jake stealing them all to finish building his house of pens yesterday – “so much more challenging than a house of cards,” he had said as he’d pocketed them – flashes into her mind and she wheels back her chair with a sigh before moving over to her partner’s desk. While her slight OCD habits have had a positive effect when it comes to him cleaning up after himself and actually washing the dishes, his desk is still something of a disaster zone, and she eyes his array of toys with a mixture of disapproval and amusement. The whole desk is littered with old folders, plastic figures, half empty cups of coffee and food remnants.

Her pens are nowhere to be found.

With a deep breath, she braces herself before starting to root through the drawers, carefully moving aside the scattered assortment of items that have been relegated there. Some of them look like they have been there for years and she slams the first drawer shut after she catches a glimpse of a greasy brown paper bag from Luke’s, a coffee shop that shut down two years ago.

The middle drawer is filled with broken toys, including the Rubix cube that Jake had declared broken after spending ten minutes trying to solve it. There’s also a pair of boxers covered in cartoonish love hearts that she really wants to ask him more about later, but then her fingers brush over something that is definitely not a broken toy or forgotten underwear and that thought is forgotten.

Silently, her heart now somewhere in her throat, Amy closes her fingers around the velvet box and pulls it out. She cracks it open slowly and stares at the ring inside. It’s beautiful; a round diamond surrounded by a circle of smaller diamonds that sparkle in the low light of the precinct.

At some point she drops down into Jake’s seat but she isn’t aware of much else except the ring in her hand.

Her and Jake have talked about marriage, first when he had asked her to move in with him, and then casually in the way that you do when you know it’s a when rather than an if. She knows she wants to marry Jake just like she knows she wants to be captain one day. It’s a fact in her life.

The fact that he feels the same, that he not only wants to marry her but is ready to, shouldn’t really be all that surprising to her. After all, he was the one who first took a chance by telling her how he felt. In many ways, Jake has always been a step ahead in their relationship. However, actually seeing the ring, holding it in her hands and knowing he’s been hiding it from her and preparing to propose, leaves her slightly stunned.

There’s also the fact that she has a gold band on reserve at a jewellers in Manhattan and tickets to a Nets game booked for next week.

While her previous boyfriends had always been rather traditional when it came to gender roles, Jake is anything but. It’s one of her favourite things about him. She’s been out of the dating game for two and a half years now but she sees the men that Kylie dates – brash, cocky and misogynistic. Sometimes she forgets how lucky she is to have someone like Jake until Kylie has coerced them into a double date – because this guy is definitely the one – and she has to listen to some guy talk about his “bitch” of a female boss while Jake refuses to engage with the guy’s sexist crap.

Jake respects women and isn’t afraid to be soft or open with his feelings. When she had taken him home for noche buena, her mom had pulled her aside before desert, as Jake entertained her nieces by being the Anna to Beth’s Elsa, and told her that he was one of the good ones.

It’s one of the many things she loves about him.

So when she had told Kylie about her plans to propose, she had easily brushed off her friend’s concerns  because she knew Jake would find it wildly romantic to see her on bended knee.

Except the one thing she hadn’t factored in was Jake having the exact same idea.

Now there’s a diamond ring and whatever madcap scheme her boyfriend has cooked up.

Judging from Boyle’s lack of squealing and sappy looks, he is as much in the dark when it comes to Jake’s plans as she is. Similarly, Gina would have happily dropped ridiculously huge hints already if she knew anything, while Rosa wouldn’t have stopped long enough to listen to his romantic ideas.

An absolute lack of information about when or where Jake is planning to propose leaves Amy with two options – either she waits for whatever Jake has planned to occur or she proposes first.

By the time her naïve boyfriend strides into the precinct, the ring is back where she found it, the gold band at the jewellers is ready for collection, and the Nets tickets have been exchanged for Friday night’s game.

Game on, Peralta.

Chapter Text

11:23am

There are a lot of things that Jake loves about his wife. He loves her determination, her strength, her caring nature, her work ethic – honestly, Jake Peralta could talk for hours about why he loves Amy Santiago. However, her irritatingly strong stubborn streak is not one of the things that would ever make the list.

“Just admit it,” he says, glaring at her and putting a hand on his hip for emphasis.

“No.”

It’s amazing how one woman can make one word sound so god damn terrifying. Even though she’s sat on one of the chairs in the break room and chewing on a bag of fish biscuits, Jake is pretty sure that entire armies would flee at the look on her face right now. She crosses her arms and frowns at him. He knows that he should feel like he has the advantage in this situation; after all he’s standing over her and is not the one currently in excruciating pain. However, his wife is nothing if not stubborn and therefore she fixes him with her sharpest look and simply blinks.

“Admit it.”

“No.”

The unfortunate thing about marrying a woman with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile is that, if you are also terribly stubborn, you have a tendency to end up in these ridiculous stand-offs until one of you gives in.

Jake folds his arms and stares down at her, doing his best not to look intimidated or stressed or show any other sign of weakness.

“Amy, I love you so please just admit the truth.”

“There’s nothing to admit. You’re being ridiculous.”

It’s obvious that talking isn’t going to get through to her so he sighs and drags one of the metal chairs over to sit in front of her. And then he waits.

The break room is silent aside from the ticking of the clock on the wall and he can see Amy trying to work out his plan as he counts the seconds underneath his breath. Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five.

He sees it rather than hears it. Her brows furrows and her fists clench as a spark of pain flares up in her eyes. She’s practically grinding her teeth while she glares at him and her body is literally shaking from how tense she is. Not even a hiss escapes her mouth though.

Amy Santiago, a woman so stubborn that she’d rather silently suffer through her contractions than admit that she’s in labor.

“What was that?” he asks as he cocks an eyebrow at her in amusement.

“Okay, so that may have possibly been a contraction.”

“A-ha!” He leaps out of his seat in excitement at getting her to break before the reality of her words sinks in and he drops back down onto the chair in shock. He’d known, theoretically, what was happening with his wife but now it’s real; it’s actually happening. “Oh my god. Amy-“

“No. It’s not an “oh my god” thing,” she says. “It’s a minor contraction and the doctor said this would happen. They’re irregular and they’re far apart. There is no need for you to start freaking out.”

And with that, she eases herself up out of her chair and shuffles back into the bullpen as if she hasn’t just dropped a bombshell on him.

12:42pm

There’s a sharp inhale of breath and the entire squad swivels round to see Amy hunched over at her desk.

“Amy, that’s your third contraction in thirty minutes.”

In Jake’s eyes, that’s a perfectly valid statement and Amy will agree and gather her stuff so they can go to the hospital. But, of course, that would be too simple. Instead, she sits up as the contractions passes and resumes typing.

“They’re ten minutes apart, Jake. Stop panicking.”

Her tone is firm, leaving no room for questioning, and she’s soon focused on filling out her paperwork, even as he stares at her in shock.

The baby isn’t due for another two weeks and Amy has been pushing the start date for her maternity leave with a varied range of excuses, the latest of which is her revelation that she’s still been working cases while supposedly on desk duty. Without the rest of them realising, she’d convinced Charles to betray him and help her investigate a string of robberies at local restaurants under the guise of shopping for baby clothes and going to a pre-natal yoga class that Charles had supposedly heard about on Yelp. The squad, including Holt, had only found out what she was doing when Boyle and her led the perp in yesterday, and now she’s pushed her maternity leave another day while she wraps up what is apparently her case.

However, their baby seems to have other ideas and is not willing to wait for paperwork to be finished and for maternity leave to officially – and finally – commence before he arrives.

Amy keeps her eyes focused on the screen until the drumming of his fingers against the desk finally forces her to look over at him.

“What?”

“What? What? You’re in labor, Amy, and you’re acting like it’s not a big deal.”

“It isn’t. Not yet. The doctor said to come in when they’re five to seven minutes apart for at least an hour. So right now, there’s no use in me going to the hospital. I have things I need to do here.”

“Are you seriously telling me a pile of paperwork is more important than the birth of our son?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m saying that making sure a criminal gets locked up for a long time is more important than sitting around waiting at the hospital for the next few hours.”

“Yeah because those are totally different things,” Jake grumbles under his breath as he shoves back his chair and stomps into Holt’s office.

1:18pm

“Detective Santiago, could you join me in my office please?”

When Holt calls for her, Amy huffs and leverages herself out of her seat. Her waddle to her captain’s office isn’t graceful or speedy but he smiles at her and she immediately knows something is up. A glimpse at her husband’s stressed expression as the door closes behind her is enough to put her on high alert.

“Have a seat.”

This time, Holt takes her hand and helps her sit down before taking a seat next to her, not behind his desk. Yes, Jake has definitely got to him.

“Amy.” The rare use of her first name, another clear sign of her husband’s meddling. “I, and everyone else here at the Nine-Nine, hugely respects your dedication to the force. But perhaps it is time for you to prioritise some more immediate concerns.”

He gestures to her baby bump with an obviously uncomfortable look on his face and Amy feels her temper flare. She’s been stuck on desk duty for the past four months, filling out parking tickets and sorting old files, while the rest of her peers do real police work. If it wasn’t for Boyle, Jake’s over-protectiveness would have led to her going insane with boredom months ago. Now she’s being told to stop doing her job because of a situation that she has totally under control, she can feel the growing pressure of another contraction at the base of her spine, the baby is doing what feels like somersaults in her belly, and she needs to pee again.

“I’m. Fine.”

Amy can count on one hand the number of times she’s snapped at Holt, and almost all of them were due to food depravation or exhaustion. Objectively, she knows she should feel guilty for snapping at someone who’s showing concern for her, but she’s sick of people acting like she’s a helpless invalid so instead she fixes him with her coldest look.

“Captain, I am capable of doing my job. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. So unless you have a problem with the work I am doing, I suggest you let me get back to it.”

Later, when everything is over and there’s a baby asleep next to her, Amy will look back on this moment and wonder what on earth she was thinking. However, in the current time, all she feels is furious and uncomfortable as she glares at her commanding officer.

Whatever he sees on her face renders Holt silent for a moment before he nods and offers her a hand to help her up.

“I apologise for intruding. Carry on, detective.” He pauses. “You’re doing excellently.”

She isn’t sure if he’s praising her detective skills or her handling of her contractions and she doesn’t think he knows either. He leads her out and she sees him shaking his head at Jake before the door closes behind him.

Then another contraction hits and Amy doesn’t have time to think about Jake’s plans or Holt’s thoughts. All she can focus on is the blinding pain and the breathing exercises from her Lamaze class.

2:39pm

Holt. Terry. Rosa.

All three have tried and failed to convince Amy to head to the hospital. Jake doesn’t know quite what happened in the captain’s office between him and his wife but he knows it was enough to make Holt stay inside his office far away from Amy ever since. Meanwhile Terry had tried to appeal to her maternal side by recalling his own children’s births and how special they were, even Ava’s more chaotic arrival in the world. All that had earned him was a dismissive nod after which Amy had continued typing up her report. The latest attempt had come from Rosa who had used her usual bluntness to tell Amy how ridiculous she was being.

“Why don’t you try growing another human being inside of you, wait until it’s trying to force its way out of your body, and then tell me I’m being ridiculous?”

“Fair point. Carry on.”

Jake sighs in disappointment as Rosa retreats back to her own desk, clearly siding with Amy’s insane way of thinking, and watches as his wife eases herself out of her chair and waddles over to the copier. She’s just reached it when another contraction hits and she keels against the machine, panting as pain races through her body.

He’s up and out of his seat in an instant, crossing the bullpen in a matter of strides, and rubbing soothing circles on her back as she gasps for air and weathers the latest contraction.

“We need to go to the hospital. You’re at seven minutes apart.”

“No. We’re waiting until five minutes.”

“Why?”

The question comes out as more of a shriek.

“I haven’t finished my paperwork and nothing is ready for your temporary partner. We still have time and all your panicking is just stressing me out. Go get a snack or something.” 

Then she makes a shooing motion with her hands, making it clear that, as far as she’s concerned, that’s the end of the conversation.

There are plenty of times over the past twelve years where Amy has driven him insane. Even in the years they’ve been together, she has left him riled and aggravated numerous times. This though, this is pushing him to breaking point. His son is on his way and Amy is refusing to realise that. And all he can do is watch and wait until his wife finally realises how crazy she is acting and lets him drive her to the hospital.

He scratches at the back of his neck as he frowns at her but she barely blinks so he throws his hands up in the air in frustration and storms off to the break room where Charles and Gina are waiting.

“She’s still not giving in?” Charles asks, anxiety clear on his face. As godfather, he’s been taking his role very seriously. There’s a pile of parenting books on his desk and at least four different officers have asked him when his baby is due. “All the parenting books say to go to the hospital when the contractions are five to seven minutes apart.”

“I know what the books say,” he snaps. He doesn’t mean to get irritable but Amy’s been having contractions since they first arrived at the precinct five hours ago and there is absolutely nothing he can do to help her until she gives in and lets him drive her to the hospital. “Sorry. It’s just that she is refusing to listen to anyone. At this rate, my son is going to be born in the evidence locker.”

Gina snorts as she scrolls through her phone and Jake glares at her.

“I wouldn’t find this funny if I was you. It’s your nephew she’s holding hostage in there.”

Gina puts her phone down and ponders his statement. They may not technically be family but she’s the closest thing he has to a sister, and he’s always known he wants her and her slightly mad way of life to be an important part of his son’s childhood. Although Gina pretends to act disinterested in all things baby, he’s seen the bags of baby clothes she’s got in the closet in her apartment and the way she always makes sure to have Amy’s latest cravings on hand in the break room. She’s going to make an excellent aunt.

“Let me go talk to her and work some Linetti magic.”

She swans out of the break room, leaving Jake and Charles with no choice but to follow after her.

Amy is sat back at her desk but she’s no longer focused on her work. Instead she’s bent over gasping for air and making a noise that sounds like a dying hyena. Rosa’s hand is clenched in hers and she’s visibly wincing as Amy grips it.

“Sweetie,” Gina says, dropping down next to her. “While I appreciate this whole warrior-Beyoncé vibe you have going, none of us want front row tickets to the birth of this baby. So, for once, you need to actually listen to your husband and go to the hospital.”

The contraction passes. There’s a moment where Amy is still panting and then she shakes her head firmly and releases Rosa’s hand.

“Gina, you haven’t had a kid so I don’t need your opinion.”

“You haven’t had one either. He’s still up in there trying to get out. We all want what is best for you and that’s for you to go to the hospital.”

“And while I appreciate you all caring so much,” she says, her voice tinged with stress, “this isn’t some community baby. This is my baby. So could you all just back off and leave me alone!”

The last part is yelled as she shoves her chair back and stands up, causing Rosa to stumble at the sudden movement.  The sight of a heavily pregnant Amy waddling away in anger would probably amuse Jake on any other day. Today though, he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack, and he tugs at his hair as he sits down in his wife’s recently vacated seat.

“Oh my god. My wife is going to go into labor in this precinct and we’re going to have to deliver her baby while murderers and drug dealers are wandering around.”

“Jake, breathe,” Terry says. “Amy will be fine. She’s a smart woman and, deep down, she knows she needs to go to the hospital.”

Amy is a smart woman. It’s one of the first things he ever noticed about her. She’s smart and sensible. She’s always the one being logical and pointing out the right thing to do. Except right now she isn’t being logical and sensible.

The truth behind her procrastination hits him just as a cry of pain comes from the other side of the bullpen and he turns to see Amy sliding down to the floor beside Hitchcock’s desk.

He races over to her and holds her hand as she whimpers. Her whole body is tensed and, when she grabs hold of his hand, she crushes it almost instantly.

“Amy, we need to go to the hospital now.”

“No. It’s fine. I can…”

Her words peter out as she sobs from the intensity of her contraction. He rubs her back and she rocks against him.

“…still talk and…”

This time the noise she makes is far closer to a scream and Jake swears it’s the worst sound he’s ever heard. His wife is in incredible pain and there is literally nothing he can do to help her. His and Amy’s whole relationship, professional and personal, has been built on having each other’s backs and protecting each other. Now though, he has to simply sit by and watch his wife suffer.

When the contraction finally passes, she leans against him, only moving when Boyle passes her a bottle of water.

“Ames, can we please go to the hospital now?”

“No.”

“Amy, we have to go. There is no paperwork more important than this.”

“I can’t go.”

Her voice is quiet and she says the words into his chest, muffling them against his shirt, but he still hears them.

“Yes you can. The go bag is in the car and we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Jake, I can’t go.”

This time he hears the fear in her voice.

Shifting slightly, he holds her hand and makes her look up at him. They’re sat on the dirty floor of the precinct with all their colleagues hovering around as his wife tries to stop her labor, and he swears he’s never been in a more ridiculous situation. But that doesn’t matter. All that matters is the scared woman in front of him.

“Amy, I know you’re scared but you can do this. I believe in you.”

She shakes her head. There are tears in her eyes and Jake clutches her hand tightly.

“No, I can’t. I can’t have this baby. Make them take it back, Jake.” She sounds more terrified than he’s ever heard her and his heart aches as he shuffles closer to her. The squad picks up on his attempt to create some privacy and they all quietly move away, leaving the two of them sat on the floor.

“It’s a little too late for that.” He hopes she’ll smile but the fear stays etched on her face. “You are the strongest person I know. You can do anything.”

“Not this. I can’t be someone’s mom. I’m going to be terrible and this kid is going to hate me and I don’t know what I’m doing. This was a mistake.”

She’s crying now, tears sliding down her cheeks as she sobs quietly, and Jake feels a burst of sadness at his wife’s self-doubt.

“Listen to me. That is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said. This wasn’t a mistake and you are not going to be terrible at this. Do you remember what you told me when I had my freak out?”

Sniffling, she wipes away some of her tears and nods. “I told you this kid would be so lucky to have you be its dad.”

“Right. And the same goes for you. This kid has won the freaking lottery having you as his mom. He’s going to love you so much and you’re going to be amazing. Yes, we’ll screw up at points because we’ve never done this before but that’s being parents. We’ll figure it out, and we’ll have each other to help us get there. And you’re going to be the most incredible mom because you already love our son so much.”

He hopes she knows just how much he means it. The idea of having kids is something he’s always thought about from when he was a teenager and he swore he’d never be the kind of dad his was. But it had always been an abstract idea, something he’d do one day in the future, and he’d always doubted whether he would be any good at it. With Amy though, he had known almost instantly that she was the woman he would want to have a family with. There is no one else he would ever want to be the mother of his children. She’s incredible in every way and their son is going to have a brilliant mom.

“I’m scared.”

“I know, and so am I. We’ll be scared together but it doesn’t matter because we’re going to have a baby, you and me. We’re going to meet our son today.”

Another contraction hits before she can respond and he holds her hand as she pants and sobs through it.

Once it passes and she can breathe again, she nods at him.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

Giving her his biggest grin, he stands up before helping her up.

“Alright, let’s go.”

The precinct bursts into a flurry of activity at that and bags and coats are shoved into his hands. Rosa finds his keys amongst the mess on his desk and Gina presses some kind of healing crystal into Amy’s palm with the promise that “it’ll help with the pain when the kid is ripping your vajayjay apart.”

(Jake makes a mental note to make sure Gina is the last one in to see the baby for that comment).

Jake tugs on his leather jacket and slings both his satchel and Amy’s bag over his shoulder before taking his wife’s hand and leading her towards the elevator with Charles dancing in front of them, shrieking about the arrival of a miracle baby.

“Do you know how many sex tape jokes I could have made back there on the floor?” he whispers in her ear. “I didn’t make a single one. Is this what being a dad is?”

She fixes him with a withering look. “Yes, that’s exactly what being a dad is.”

Then Charles is hurrying them into the elevator and there’s a whole crowd of cops waving them off and shouting good luck. But, as the doors slide closed, all Jake can think about is how many times he’s stood on this exact elevator over the years, and how he’d never imagined he’d be lucky enough to be standing on it next to Amy on the way to the hospital to have their baby.