#pining!jake

It had been a long night at the Santiago household, with all of the family together under the one roof to celebrate the upcoming year.  Earlier in the evening Amy had been lumped with the task of entertaining her multiple nieces and nephews (a number which appeared to keep growing, year by year), and she had been so relieved when her fellow siblings had finally decided to pretend that 9pm was midnight, in the hopes that the children would crash right after.  The result was a house littered with scattered remnants of party poppers and banners, but all Santiagos under the age of eighteen were now safely tucked into their beds, and Amy could finally toast to the end of 2014.  

And in all honesty, she was glad to see the year was finally over.  It had been a confusing one, to say the least.  Helped in no way at all by her trusted partner dropping a Romantic Stylez shaped bomb on her before going undercover for six months without another word.  

Extending his own drink out, Chris taps the edge of his glass against Amy’s, the tiny clink so soft that the sound is barely audible.  “Are we drinking to remember, or drinking to forget?”

Amy scrunches up her face, weighing out the options.  She can still recall the moment with perfect clarity, all these months later.  Standing outside the precinct, feeling the cool breeze against her skin as she stopped to wish her partner good luck on his assignment.  The look on Jake’s face - oddly clear of all facades, with only a mixture of fear and hope remaining - as he told her how he felt.  Her hand gripping the strap of her purse just that little bit tighter as he spoke, eyebrows bent with confusion as her overactive (and sometimes frustrating) partner said the last thing she’d expected him to say.  The way her world seemed to shift from it’s comfortably slow and steady spin as he walked away, tilting onto an entirely new axis that pulled her into a stunned silence for god knows how long - breaking free only after a fellow officer passed her and wished her goodnight.  

And then there was Teddy.  Sweet, safe, reliable Teddy.  Who probably would have made an excellent (if not a little boring) long term boyfriend, if said partner hadn’t reappeared from undercover; denying then readmitting the truth behind his confession all within a day.  Reminding her - without even trying - of a night not so long ago, conducting surveillance on a rooftop that had played on her mind for days afterwards, and the strange little skip her heart would sometimes do when Jake smiled at her like she was the only one in the room.  

So they’d broken up, in a spectacularly awkward evening far too far from home, and now she was single and he was dating the kind of woman you’d expect to see on a billboard somewhere.  Jake was happy - happy without Amy - and no matter how hard she tried, Amy just could not get him out of her mind.

“Forget” she replies, draining her glass in one final gulp.  “Definitely to forget.”

Chris nods, reaching for the pitcher on a nearby table and refilling Amy’s glass.  “Drinking to forget it is.”

But try as she might, Amy can’t forget.  And as her phone buzzes against her thigh, from it’s position safely tucked into the front pocket of her jeans, she knows all the reasons why.

The texts between them had started out so simple earlier in the evening - Jake texting to double check that Amy hadn’t been called in to cover ‘some stupid assignment’ because ‘working two new years in a row would be a crappy move on Holt’s part but not unlikely’.  It had been sweet of him to do so, and Amy hadn’t been able to stop smiling for a good ten minutes after she had responded, confirming that she was in fact nowhere near work this evening.   

And then he had kept texting her, because it’s been close to four years working together now and somewhere along the way they had become friends as well as partners, and friends texted each other on New Years Eve.  And maybe she should stop replying, so that he stops texting her - because she really needs to get over him and moments like these really weren’t helping - but also maybe she doesn’t want to stop at all.  

Pulling out her phone, Amy unlocks her screen and grins at the latest text: a gif, of a drunk woman dancing - obviously supposed to be her after three drinks.  Completely ridiculous but also kind of hilarious and exactly what she’d expect to get from Jake after sending him a picture of her sangria.  

“Oh, I see - ” Chris’s insinuating voice breaks through the comfortable silence as he looks over Amy’s shoulder, sneaking a peak at her phone.  “You’re trying to forget someone, not something.”  He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head.  “You’re gonna need a lot more drinks then, chiquita.”

“I’m older than you, tonto.” Amy mutters, tapping out a quick reply and shoving her phone away before her brother can tease her any further.  “And besides, there’s nothing to ‘get over’.  That was Jake.  He’s my partner, and we’re friends.  It’s perfectly normal for friends to text each other.”

“Yep, sure.”  Her brother nods, giving her that totally disbelieving look that he’s thrown at her a thousand times before, and Amy rolls her eyes in preparation for his inevitable comeback.  “And friends totally get goopy-schmooey eyes whenever they see texts from each other.  Blush and bite their lip and do all those other totally normal things that you’ve been doing all night.”  He points with the hand still wrapped around his glass, one finger sticking out in accusation.  “You’re not as sly as you think you are, detective.”

“I so have NOT done any of tha- okay fine, I like him.”  Maybe it was the wine swimming around her belly, or maybe she was just so damn tired of hiding the reality of all of this even from herself.  Whatever it is, Amy finds herself twisting in place, leaning towards her brother and divulging it all:  from Jake’s admittance of feelings and Amy’s decision to keep dating Teddy; right down to the inevitably horrible breakup in front of Jake and his stupidly hot girlfriend.  She ends it all with a sigh, finishing her drink in a single gulp and dumping the glass onto the table with a thud, dropping her head into her hands.  “I like him SO much, Chris.  It’s just the worst right now.  We keep saying to each other that it’s in the past, but it isn’t really.  Not for me, anyway.”

Her brother leans back in his chair, not speaking, and the silence is so deafening that Amy lifts her head to look over at him.  With one hand resting against the armrest and the other stroking his chin, he appears deep in thought and (after what feels like forever) he clears his throat.  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk this way about a guy before.”

Flickering her eyes back to the glass, Amy shrugs in defeat.  It would appear that Seven Drink Amy makes alcohol turn into truth serum.   “In vino veritas, I guess.”

Chris nods, eyes trailing over to the game of cups that Tony and Ricardo are playing in the distance before returning back to Amy.  “Maybe.  Or maybe … there’s more on the line this time.  He’s your partner, right?  Once the two of you ring that bell, there wouldn’t be any turning back.  And I think that scares the hell out of you.”

Amy nods, suddenly not trusting herself to respond.  It does scare the hell out of her.  She’s seen it all fall apart so many times before - colleagues transferring departments when things turn sour; holiday parties with both sides avoiding each other.  Not to mention the awkward distance she put between herself and Teddy whenever they were forced to cross paths.  The thought of having to go through any of that with Jake … even if she took all of the Feels out of the equation, he is still one of her closest friends, and one of the few people who understand her for who she is.  The thought of having to spend her day avoiding his smile, or to change precincts and move away from the people that have become her second family, made her feel physically ill.   

She’s never been one to back down from a challenge.  But maybe this time, the risks were too high to ignore.  

Looking over at Chris, Amy gives him what she hopes is a convincingly carefree smile.  “Never thought I’d hear such wisdom from you, manito.”

A steady hand reaches out, shoving Amy’s shoulder gently, and she laughs.  “Whatever, Amy.”  Chris mumbles, standing up to join their brothers.  “Seriously, though.  If this guy doesn’t come to his senses soon, it is absolutely his loss.  We Santiagos are good people, and you’re the best sister I’ve ever known”

Type A Amy wants to pipe up with a correction, and remind her brother that she is, in fact, the ONLY sister he’s ever known.  But the sentiment is sweet, and her phone is buzzing in her pocket again, and so she smiles at her brother’s parting figure, digging into her pocket with an eagerness she doesn’t even try to hide.  

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe this time, she was in over her head.  

*

Jake slides a palm against his face as he walks towards the bar, leaning against the granite top as he repeats his order and settles on a stool to wait.  Tonight was dragging a little more than he had anticipated, and right now he needed a moment away from the crowd.

He knows, for all intent and purposes, that he should be out there mingling with the crowd.  Making small talk with the relatively familiar faces of the people that made up Sophia’s office, and put on his best Perfect Boyfriend face.  But as the night wears on, and he’s needed to encounter so many Ghosts of Courtrooms Past, it was getting increasingly difficult for him to pretend that he isn’t an island surrounded by a sea of monsters.  

(He’d texted something similar to Amy earlier in the evening, and she quoted some sort of poem about no men not being islands and oh how she’s a dork.)

The material of the tuxedo that Sophia made him rent rubs up against his wrist uncomfortably, and he fiddles with the inside seam as he waits.  There was only ten minutes until 2015 would begin, and he wants to get these glasses of champagne over to Sophia before the clock ticks over.  But there is one thing playing on his mind, and his fingers are itching to pull out his phone again and text Amy real quick - so under the guise of checking the time, he slides his phone from his pocket and begins typing rapidly.  

JP:  Do you know what I could really go for right now?

Her reply is swift, and briefly Jake wonders why she isn’t busy this close to midnight.

AS:  No? 

A soft smile crosses over his face at the memory.

JP:  One of those firework cupcakes we had last year. 

AS:  !!! The firework cupcakes! Honestly, those cupcakes were the best I’ve ever had.

JP:  The best I’ve ever had, title of my sextape.

AS:  🙄

His grin is bright as the bartender places two glasses of champagne in front of him, and Jake nods his thanks as he tucks his phone away again, grabbing the drinks and heading back into the fray.

Searching through the crowd, his eyes finally land on Sophia, her dark hair falling seamlessly down her back as she chats with her boss.  She’d chosen a simple blue dress for the occasion, hugging her figure in a complimentary way, and Jake tries his best to forget that the first time he saw it on the hanger in her apartment his mind had flashed back to the plastic-polyester blended monstrosity that he’d forced Amy to wear when he’d won the bet.  

There were a lot of reasons why a detective of the NYPD dating a defence attorney wouldn’t work, but Jake is glad that the two of them are doing their best to prove it all wrong.  Rosa had been right - the only way to move on from Amy was to move on, and Sophia had arrived into his life at just the right time.  Sure, it wasn’t ideal that  - despite their best efforts - they cannot seem to form a shared social group.  And that conversations about work never ended amicably, or that sometimes the resulting silence stretched out for a little too long until one of them (usually Sophia) initiated sex.  The point was, things were Totally Fine and he was definitely over Amy.

Sophia smiles at Jake as he hands her a glass of champagne, using her free hand to tuck the edge of his tuxedo collar down.  “Thanks, Jake.  Ready to count in 2015?”

Jake ignores the vibration of his phone in his pocket, smiling excitedly at his girlfriend as the band on stage begins to countdown.  Sophia’s palm remains flat against his chest as they share a chaste kiss at the stroke of midnight, whispering happy new year in that soft voice he’s grown so fond of, and when she steps away to wish her colleagues the same sentiment Jake begins to wonder if this could be the beginning of love.  That maybe love was about compromise: about changing to fit into the other’s world.  She seems to really like him, and he definitely likes her, and when they’re not avoiding certain topics they get on really well.  It’s possible that this whole time, his impression of what love should be has been completely wrong … and it was time to try again.

There’s more buzzing in his pocket as an additional text comes through, and with a quick glance towards Sophia, Jake retrieves his phone again.  It’s from Amy; this time accompanied with a selfie with her and several of her brothers, and Jake’s heart does a tiny backflip as he studies the photo of his partner.  She looks so relaxed and happy, holding up a tiny sparkler to the camera, and briefly he’s taken back a year - to a moment in an unmarked police car with surprise cupcakes and absolutely no bad guys.  A time before unsolicited admissions of affection and ‘maybe, yes, a little’s.  He scrolls ahead, reading the text below:

AS: Happy New Year, Jake.  Here’s to new beginnings. 

And he’s definitely over it all, but Jake’s heart still beats just that little bit faster when he scrolls back up to her photo.  Be that as it may, he’s here with Sophia; and the idea of the two of them together deserve a fighting chance, and so he sends Amy a quick reply before shoving his phone back into his pocket, distracting himself for the rest of the evening from the fact that he doesn’t hear from Amy again.

Meanwhile, on the other side of New York at her parent’s holiday house in The Hamptons, Amy switches her phone off - joining her brothers in a toast to the future, holding a single resolution in her head.  One simple rule, that will avoid all the potential for mess and force her to get over her ridiculous crush because no rule was made to be broken: no dating cops.  

What does she even see in Teddy? Sure, he memorizes police codes for fun and he’s responsible and probably doesn’t have crushing debt— but why him?

Jake can memorize more police codes if he wanted (he doesn’t). Jake can be responsible (sometimes). And the crushing debt is getting better (marginally).

He sits alone in his self loathing and jealousy, but then Terry comes over, and he can see the pity in Terry’s eyes as he realizes why Jake is so unsatisfied by his solving of the unsolvable case. The pity from the realization that Jake wants to be the one over there with Santiago’s hand on his arm.

And, oh, how bad Jake wants to be that guy. The guy who gets to be the cause of that bright smile, the one that makes his heart stutter when it’s directed at him. He wants to be the only guy that can make her laugh, even after she’s had a bad day. The guy that gets to thread his fingers through those silky dark waves as he kisses her.

But then him and Terry get drunk, and it helps for a bit. It helps him forget, if only for a little, that he can’t be that guy for Amy. Forget that Teddy gets to be that guy. Forget the dull ache in his chest because of everything that he can’t be for her.

But then it doesn’t help anymore, and his self loathing is back and more intense than before. And he finds himself alone in his apartment, sitting on his couch with yet another beer in his hand. His phone is in the other, his thumb perpetually hovering over her name in his contacts.

He knows he shouldn’t call her, especially not in the state he’s in. He has no right, it’s not his place. But the small part of his mind that is still thinking rationally is not strong enough to keep his thumb from pressing down on that button; a more primal part of his brain too desperate to hear her voice.

“Hello?” A groggy sounding Amy answers after a few rings.

Immediately, his heart does a somersault at the sound of her voice.

“Santiagooo! Amy Santiago!” Jake slurs into his phone.

“Jake,” she sounds a little more alert now. “What is going on?”

“Your smile,” he hiccups, as he lies down sideways on his couch. “It kills me.”

It’s silent on the other end of the phone, and for a second he’s scared she hung up.

“It’s so beautiful, like— like the sun!” He continues. “All of you is beautiful.”

It’s silent for a few more moments before she finally responds. “You’re drunk.” She whispers.

“Hellz yeah! You know me so well, Ames. You— you know me.”

He hears her gentle sigh through the phone as well as some shuffling, most likely from her shifting in her bed. His entire body floods with heat as he imagines her in bed— as he imagines himself there with her, holding her in his arms.

“I do know you, Peralta. And I also know you’re inebriated, calling me at 3 am, mumbling nonsense.”

“Mmm,” he hums, shutting his eyes, suddenly feeling so sleepy. “Your voice is nice. So soft.”

She chuckles, and he can picture her rolling those beautiful twinkling eyes. “You need to go to sleep, Jake.”

“M’kay. Smort. G’nite, Ames.”

There’s a mother pause of silence before she whispers, “Goodnight, Jake.”