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Amy Santiago is a woman of her word.
She prides herself on being sincere in her promises – and when she’d promised Jake earlier that she’d call her mom tonight, she’d meant it. Of course, she’d meant it a hundred times more when he smiled at her like that (those honey brown eyes can really melt her like butter, god damn it) and they’d shared a really quite touching moment of “cool, we didn’t ruin our relationship by having a dumb fight about orange soda that wasn’t really about orange soda, good job us” before catching their perp.
Things are going so well between them – she’s so, so blissfully happy when she’s with him - and even if Holt might be reluctant to put them on another case together anytime soon, it’s definitely about time she put an end to her mom’s well-meaning but irritating tendency to try and set her up with practically any guy she can find. It should be a nice, quick and simple phone call, a simple declaration – she has a boyfriend now.
A boyfriend who’s willing to buy a new mattress just for her, who listens to her attentively and laughs at her jokes even when they’re bad, one who tries his best to make her breakfast and brings her coffee every morning and challenges her to dance-offs and teases her endlessly but cares about her so deeply, cares for her so gently. Amy feels like she’s never felt so strongly about anything or anyone in her life before, like she’s a thousand romantic comedy clichés crammed into a person. It’s amazing.
In other words, she really, really cares about Jake Peralta, and she wants the whole world to know that. Starting with her mom.
And yet, with her thumb hovering over the “Call” button, she can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety – okay, more like an overwhelming tsunami wave of panic – building in her chest.
It’s more frustrating than anything else – she’s pacing in her bedroom trying desperately to reason with herself, absentmindedly chewing her bottom lip red raw. It’s not like she’s worried that her mom won’t like Jake – even if she didn’t, that wouldn’t really matter to her (for the record, she likes him a lot).
Yes, she’s apprehensive of the constant prying into her love life that was a constant when she was dating Teddy and every semi-serious relationship with someone equally as boring before him.
And yeah, okay, she’s still a little scared of building up a life and a relationship together just in case things...change. Amy is cautious by nature, always has been, and a tiny little part of her - a part she’s not particularly fond of - doesn’t think she deserves something as wonderful as this amazing feeling as a stable fixture in her life.
But, no - she wants to do this. For them. For him, mainly, to put that stupid fight behind them, to be better because of it. She’s scared, yeah, but she knows deep down she has no real reason to be.
In the brief history of their romantic relationship, Jake’s always been better at the grand gestures. She can start with this small one.
Amy takes a deep breath, sits down on the edge of her bed, and presses ‘Call’. As a Santiago, it’s practically guaranteed that she’ll pick up on the first-
“Amelia?” Before her mom can even say anything, Amy’s up and pacing frantically again around the bedroom, nerves tightening her chest.
“Hi, mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything alright? You don’t usually call me out of the blue like this, and you know I have book club in twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, I know. I just...wanted to tell you something.”
“Hmm? You have news? Should I be sitting down?” Amy rolls her eyes at how melodramatic Camilla Santiago can always be counted on to be. Then again, if you want a peaceful and relatively drama-free life, you don’t usually have eight children. She wonders whether she should ease into it but ultimately decides to just rip off the band-aid.
(If they’ve only got twenty minutes, she has to allow at least nineteen for dodging a wide range of intrusive and awkward questions.)
“No, mom. I’m fine. I actually wanted to tell you that...I have a boyfriend.”
Boyfriend catches in her throat - but only because saying it out loud still takes her by surprise when she says it, warmth spreads to her cheeks like she’s a lovesick teenager again pining after the president of the debate club. If she’s being really honest, she’s not quite sure how she feels about boyfriend just yet – it still feels so new. It’s decidedly not light and breezy - and part of her still feels a little like they’re still crossing a line or breaking a rule.
Amy prefers ‘partner’, she supposes – it’s more comfortable, more familiar, almost homely. After all, they’ve been partners for much longer than they’ve been together, romantic stylez, and she supposes it just feels more right. Plus, as an added bonus, she gets to hear Jake make seemingly endless jokes to anyone who will listen (mostly Charles) about how they’re ‘partners in the streets and in the sheets’, something she’s chosen to find cute (even if she’s strongly against encouraging Charles’s...special...interest in the more intimate details of their romantic relationship).
Now that she’s saying it out loud, though, boyfriend does have a nice ring to it, a certain honey sweetness that makes her smile. She has a boyfriend.
She’s so caught up in how the word feels on her tongue that she almost forgets the momentum it carries.
“Oh, mija, that’s wonderful news! Do I know him?” Amy rolls her eyes at the expectation that her dating pool is limited exclusively to the sons of her mom’s friends, but smiles at how excited she seems, quietly chiding herself for getting so worried about it.
“Uh, actually, yeah. You do.” She takes another steadying breath.
“Oh? Is it Gary? Because Patricia has been saying for some time now that you two would make a excellent-”
“No, it’s not Gary. I’m...I’m dating Jake. Peralta, from work – we’re, um, together now.”
Amy braces herself – although she’s not really sure what she’s expecting as a reaction. She knows that all the times she’s talked – okay, mostly ranted - about Jake in the past, she hasn’t exactly sung his praises. More likely, she’s complained endlessly about his intelligible handwriting or his constant teasing or his obsession with Die Hard – except now that she’s actually got to know him, now that she really knows him, all of those things are just endearing.
She expects some kind of surprised exclamation at least, and she has a whole speech full of his best qualities ready to go the second her mom asks her if she’s making the “right decision”. Honestly, she’s not even really sure what she wants her mom to say. If it was socially acceptable, she’d probably just hang up right now and try to get on with her evening without needing to know her mom’s opinion.
What she definitely doesn’t expect is a sudden outburst of melodic, light laughter coming from the other side of the phone. Amy double checks she has the right number.
“Well, I think you’ll have certainly made Julian very happy. He’s just made a lot of money.”
“...What?”
“Mija, sweetheart, he’s been in practically every story you’ve told us for the past five years, and the way you talk about him... It was only a matter of time before the boys caught on and...well, you know Luis & Tony will take any opportunity to turn something into a competition, so-“
“Sorry - have you guys been...betting on when we were going to get together?” Amy asks, incredulously, feeling her entire face flush bright red.
“Just the boys – your father and I didn’t want to get involved. He’s really quite oblivious to the whole thing, although I have to admit I have been waiting for this news for quite a while now-“
“I can’t believe – no, actually, I can believe this. I’m going to kill-“
“So, how long has this been going on?”
She makes several strangled noises of indignation before resigning herself to destroying her brothers in a series of very angry texts in the Santiago group chat later, and tries to regain some composure, biting down on her lip again.
“Just over three months.” Amy says, unable to keep the corners of her mouth from tugging upwards at the memory of Jake bringing her a “three-month- a-versary surprise” during their lunch break a couple days ago.
(It turned out to be her favourite chocolate bar from the vending machine, and their three month anniversary had been the week before - but she still very much appreciated the gesture, enough for a chaste work-appropriate cheek kiss.)
“It was after the Captain left. He, um, found me trying to process it in the evidence lock-up and comforted me and...we kissed.” She smiles but firmly decides then and there to omit any further details - her face is already flushed a little pink at admitting they kissed in a work environment to her mom.
God, she’s going to be the subject of some seriously scandalous gossip at brunch.
Her mom hums (whether in approval or disapproval, she’s not sure – for her peace of mind, she’s going to go with the former) and there’s a moment of comfortable silence where Amy feels herself relax – for about a second.
“Amelia, darling –“ Her mom begins, and she braces herself, fully aware of what’s probably about to come - “you know I’m very happy for you two, but I have to ask...are you sure you’re making the right decision?”
“Mom...”
“I know, I know. I’m sure you are - I know you’re a smart and more than capable girl, something I am grateful for everyday. I just want to make sure you’re being careful, mija. Dating someone you work with so closely can be difficult...and the two of you just seem so...different.”
“Well...yes. We are different...but that’s good, I think. I like actually being challenged instead of being with someone who just agrees with everything I say. It has been difficult, but it’s also so easy, because we know each other so well already, it just kind of feels...right.” Amy pauses, suddenly hyperaware of how she’s spilling out thoughts she didn’t even know she was having.
What surprises her the most is how true it is; today was the perfect example of how difficult working together and dating can be - almost screwing up a case over a petty argument. But then she thinks about how easy everything else is - how easy it is to curl up on the couch together after a long day, how easy it is to talk to him, how she feels most like herself when she’s with him - and suddenly, how different they are or how difficult it is couldn’t matter less. She takes another breath.
“Jake still drives me up the wall sometimes. But he’s also so sweet, and kind, and surprisingly thoughtful. He makes me laugh, and I can really talk to him...and I honestly don’t know what I would do without him.” She’s blushing heavily now, staring at her feet, knowing she could never tell him any of this to his face - it’d go straight to his head. He’s always complaining about the awards he should be getting for his boyfriend skills, and though she definitely agrees, she knows him too well to let him have it.
“Well, it looks like I have no reason to be worried, then. You’ve really fallen for this one, haven’t you?” Her mom says, warmly.
“Yeah.” Amy grins. “I guess I have.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Mom, no-”
“You know, it doesn’t feel like long ago you were coming home from the playground, swearing off dating because you thought ‘all boys were disgusting!’ – I remember when you-“
“Don’t you have to get to book club?” Amy cuts her off, grimacing with embarrassment. God, it’s going to be a disaster when she properly introduces Jake to her family. So many embarrassing stories, and awkward old photos - he’ll probably be like a kid in a candy store.
Wait, did she just say ‘when’?
“Yes, yes, of course – but don’t think you can get away that easily – I still want to know everything. I’ll be hearing from you on Sunday, yes?”
“Yes, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
Amy hangs up and immediately collapses down on her bed, exhaling deeply in relief. Of course, all that she’s allowed is a brief moment of peace, perhaps two minutes of blissful silent respite before she hears the doorbell ring – but, of course, she doesn’t mind.
She immediately tries to push down all the feelings currently buzzing in her stomach - a weird mix of hunger pangs (since the smell of pizza is tantalisingly wafting from outside her door and she hasn’t eaten since her mid-morning granola bar) and butterflies (from knowing who’s waiting outside it).
The amalgamation of relief, butterflies and appetite is enough to motivate Amy to practically sprint to open the door to her impossibly cute dork of a boyfriend – he doesn’t even make it through the doorway before she’s kissing him, feeling him smile against her lips for a brief second before intently kissing her back in a way that makes her heart flutter every time.
After they break apart, his eyes are swimming with adoration and a glint of amusement – he blinks at her like he’s dizzy before grinning widely.
“Woah. Do you tip all your delivery guys like that?”
“Just the ones I really like.” She says, this coy little smile on her face that makes him raise an eyebrow – even a few weeks ago, she’d be embarrassed at greeting him so forwardly, but God, does she like him.
Talking to her mom has only amplified it, the heartbeat in her chest that so quickly yet somehow so naturally now seems to belong to him. Jake puts the pizza box down on the dining table and before he can do anything else she’s practically jumping him again, reaching up on her tiptoes to cup his face to get his attention.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” He says, slightly bemused but giving her that warm, honey-sweet smile, so she kisses him again, mainly just because she can. He laughs softly, arms around her waist, keeping her grounded. Just like he always has.
“Is this just because I brought you food?”
“Pretty much. I think I’m just light-headed from the hunger.”
“Well, I can fix that. M’lady.” He takes her hand and leads her to the couch, where he gestures for her to sit down while he gets them drinks and plates – it makes Amy smile knowing that he already knows her kitchen well enough to do that, thinking about how he’s been spending more and more time over here lately.
Some sitcom they’ve been rewatching is regulated to background noise as they talk in-between mouthfuls - about Charles’s failed attempts at making desk yoghurt and how it’s stinking up the precinct or how glad they are that the Vulture’s gone or reminiscing about old cases, stakeouts and amazing badass cop stories that they’ve heard a hundred times before (and were probably there for). It doesn’t seem to matter - one still hangs on the other’s every word anyway, listening intently, laughing and gasping in all the right places, the perfect audience.
It’s only later, when they fall into a comfortable, content silence, Amy curled up beside him with her head resting on his shoulder, that she decides to casually mention it.
“So...I called my mom while you were out.” She says, tilting her head so she can see him better.
“Yeah?” He asks, a little nervously, a little hopefully, and she can’t help but smile.
“Yeah. You’re about to get added to a variety of group chats, email chains and shared calendars –oh, we’re also about to get a lot of joint invites to brunch that I will be politely yet firmly declining.”
“Cool.” He nods, grinning brightly at her and it’s a tiny bit like a mini fireworks display goes off in her chest.
“It is pretty cool. I’m sorry I waited so long, I-“ She begins, but still doesn’t quite know how to vocalise all the fears, all the uncertainty and doubt that have a tendency to cloud her head – especially when all she has to do is look at him and all of her uncertainty evaporates.
He notices, like he always does, and seems to understand without her saying a word - he quietly takes her hand.
“Ames, it’s okay. Honestly. I actually wanted to say, uh.” He says, shy, suddenly small, but completely and utterly sincere – “I’m sorry. About making such a big deal out of this. It’s just...I really like you, and I’m so, so happy right now. Like super happy. Happier than front row at a Taylor Swift concert happy.”
“Me too.” She squeezes his hand and he looks at her, practically glowing with warmth - and she just might be falling in love.
Just the tiniest little bit, not enough to know, definitely not enough to actually say it – they’ve had enough excitement for one day. Just enough to know that she wants moments like these, when he looks at her like that, for as long as she can possibly get them.
“I guess...I’m just scared about messing this up.” He says, and Amy shifts from her very comfortable position using his shoulder as a makeshift pillow to sit up and look at him, really look at him, to let him know that she couldn’t be more earnest when she tells him that his fears couldn’t be further from the truth.
This openness, the honesty and vulnerability of many of their late night conversations curled up together is something new - something gradual that they’re building up together. She loves being able to confide in someone who knows her so well; someone who makes her feel so comfortable and so at ease that she never feels like a burden.
He listens to her more attentively than she’s ever seen him listen before, and it makes her heart soar – what makes her heart reach even higher heights is how he’s getting more and more comfortable confiding in her.
“Jake, you’re definitely not messing this up. Trust me. We’re good.”
“Really?”
“I promise you. You’re amazing.” He smiles widely and she has to wonder how it all got so easy to feel so intensely about one person, even despite the fact that said person doesn’t even know who Will Shorts is.
She could say more – she could say a lot more. But somehow a promise as simple as that one feels like enough.
“You’re amazinger.” He says brightly, and she narrows her eyes for a brief second.
“...I’m going to let that go, but only because you’re cute.”
“That’s what got me this far.” Jake shrugs as she rolls her eyes and puts her head back on his shoulder, humming in contentment.
“Mmm. I actually hear that you’ve been nominated multiple times at the Boyfriend Awards this year.”
“Well, duh. Who else is going to take the prestigious Best Boyfriend award?”
“Oh, I don’t know - someone with a mattress their girlfriend can actually sleep on?” She quips, and Jake dramatically places his hand over his heart, shaking his head.
“Too soon, Ames, too soon. Speaking of mattresses, my new one arrives in 7-10 business days...wanna get a little practise breaking it in on yours until then?”
“Practise getting a good night’s sleep?” Amy teases- and predictably, he pouts at her with those big wide eyes until she finally gets up and authoritatively takes him by the hand.
She leads him to her bedroom, laughing as he excitedly pumps his fist in the air with this cute little smile on his face. Suddenly she doesn’t care whether she deserves happiness like this in her life or not - she doesn't care how sappy she is, whether her feelings are too intense, or what her family thinks. She only cares about him, honey sweet, smart and sincere and stupidly wonderful in every single way – and in her head, she places her own little bet that this kind of happiness is going to last.