33 weeks later

"Pull yourself together, little pup. It's just labor, kiddo. You get to meet your babies soon!"

Jake was curled up in a ball on the floor of the bullpen, blinking rapidly and staring into space, sweating as the panic built up in him. Babies. His babies. OH GOD. He can't do this.

"What if I'm a terrible father, Gina?" he managed to choke out.

Gina walked over to him, knelt down, looked him in the eye, and quickly smacked him in the face. Jake snapped out of his dazed panic. Gina had ridiculously strong hands.

"You'll be a great dad, boo. NOW GET UP AND GET YOUR ASS IN THE CAR."

Jake didn't move. "Make me."

And with that, Terry picked Jake up, threw him over his shoulder (Jake kicked and screamed like a child the entire time), and carried him out to the car, followed by Charles, Rosa, and Gina. It took all four of them to get him into the car properly. He only relented when Rosa put him in a headlock and whispered, "Peralta. Snap. Out. Of. It. Don't make me handcuff you to the seat." Jake whimpered, and sat quietly, knowing Rosa would be true to her word.

Amy, his Amy, his wife, lover, his…everything, if he was being honest, was lying in a hospital bed, in labor with their twins.

Jake twisted his wedding band around his finger nervously. He rested his head against the window, staring at the slush filled streets of Brooklyn, dampness shimmering off of the concrete on this cold early spring day.

Amy had started her maternity leave the previous week, after desk duty for the past two months. As her pregnancy progressed, it got harder to go out in the field, much to her chagrin. She wasn't allowed to go out on any of the fun cases, being assigned to cases that "weren't dangerous" (her Captain and Jake's words).

The past week had been spent putting the finishing touches on the nursery, and folding (and refolding) tiny gender-neutral baby clothes. Not knowing the sexes of the babies was slowly eating her alive, but she promised Jake they wouldn't find out. He had been adamant, claiming that it was "one of the few true surprises left in life, Amy. Humor me." She plopped (not sat. She was way beyond that point) her swollen body on the couch, and closed her eyes; flashing back to the days after they found out she was pregnant.

After both Jake and Amy were released from the hospital (he had been admitted for observation after his "fainting episode") they headed home, shocked at the news. They hadn't been actively trying, but sometimes, things happen. According to Amy's meticulous cycle tracking, it occurred after a particularly long week of opposite shifts. Amy remembers Jake coming home after sending her flirty texts all day, and she pounced on him. They didn't even make it to the bedroom, and also, in their haste, forgot protection. Jake had been very proud of himself for his "super sperm," as he put it. Amy's response had been "You know the woman is the one who determines twins?" "Let me have this, Amy." The pout on his face made her laugh, and she kissed him, declaring him a superhero.

So here she sat, stomach heaving, the twins kicking and dancing. Suddenly, she felt something warm. Great. Her water broke. She picked up her phone and called Jake, but he didn't answer. She called the precinct. Charles answered, and told her that Jake had gone out on a case with Rosa, but he would track him down. "BABIES!," he yelled. Amy still wasn't sure how his voice gets so high.

She called her mom, who showed up fifteen minutes later. Charles called her back, and told her that Jake had been three blocks away, and came racing back to the precinct to get a car. He had arrived panicked, yelling "get me to my wife and babies" to no one in particular, with Rosa holding him up by the back of the pants. "I had to use the baton," she said, smirking at the memory. Jake was currently in a heap on the bullpen floor, and Gina was yelling at him to get up with the same enthusiasm Jake had while interrogating perps. Amy rolled her eyes, and told Charles to just "get him to the hospital. I give you permission to use force if you need to."

Amy was certain Jake would be the one needing medical attention.

Jake jumped out of the car before Terry even stopped it completely. "Hold UP, little man. Where do you think you're going?," Terry yelled fruitlessly out the window. Charles jumped out of the car after him, running to catch up to his best friend. "Jake," Boyle wheezed. "Slow down. Labor takes awhile, and Amy is only in the beginning stages. She doesn't need you to be panicked."

Jake shot his friend a glare so strong Charles actually cowered.

"Or you can run up the stairs and be with your wife."

"Yes, Boyle, that is the correct answer."

Jake started running again, racing up the stairs to Labor and Delivery. He made it to the nursing station in two minutes.

"I'm (wheeze) here (wheeze) for my (wheeze) wife. Amy (wheeze) Peral-Amy Santiago" (wheeze, wheeze, wheeze). Jake was trying very hard to catch his breath.

The nurse looked at him like he was nuts. "Room 306."

"Thank you" he yelled over his shoulder as he ran towards her room.

He found Amy sitting up in bed, waiting for him.

"Hi, goofball."

"Hello, my darling wife. How are you?"

"Clearly not in as much trauma as you are," Amy laughed, looking at Jake. His hair was disheveled, shirt untucked, tie askew, and his shoelaces were untied. He looked adorable.

Jake walked over and hugged Amy, stroking her hair. "How far along are you?"

"Only 3 centimeters. We have a long night ahead of us. Get comfortable."

"A long night" turned into another fifteen hours. Amy never progressed, and the doctor recommended a c-section. This is how Jake found himself alone, sitting outside the operating room while the nurses prepped Amy. The whole gang was in the waiting room, anxiously anticipating the arrival of the "newest members of the 9-9," as Terry had put it (and Terry would never admit to this, but he teared up. Jake had amazing blackmail fodder now.)

Jake's mind began to wander, thinking back to the past nine months.

After the initial shock wore off, Jake became the most excited dad-to-be in history. He somehow managed not to tell everyone at the precinct until twelve weeks had passed. The news had been met with shocked silence, suddenly erupting into happiness. Terry gave him a bear hug, lifting him off the ground. Rosa actually smiled. Gina made a dirty joke at Jake's expense. Holt (who had returned to the 99) kept his consistent tone as he said "congratulations, detectives. That's…wonderful. Children are…special. I am ecstatic for you." (Jake took that at face value. Even after three years he couldn't read the Captain.) Charles had the best reaction of them all. He had run around the precinct squealing "BABIES. TWO BABIES. I WANT TO TELLTHEM ALL ABOUT FOOD," while simultaneously bawling hysterically. Rosa threatened to "end you, Boyle, if you don't stop that racket."

Jake had read all of the parenting books he could get his hands on. He spent three hours choosing between four different shades of gray paint for the nursery. Even Amy found that annoying. He shopped for tiny baby clothes, only freaking out once over a pair of tiny socks. "They're SO SMALL and CUTE!" he had squealed. The sales woman looked at him with amusement. Amy had not been amused. Jake catered to Amy's every need, from weird food cravings (dumplings covered in BBQ sauce, anyone?) to massaging her swollen feet, to satisfying her…other…cravings (He meant himself. That was an unexpected perk of pregnancy he didn't know about). Jake had been at every sonogram appointment, seeing his beautiful babies on the screen. Their friends and family had thrown them a shower, filling their apartment with every gadget they could possibly need. Terry had long talks with Jake about being a parent to twins, and helped to ease some of his fears.

There was also one huge disappointment. Jake had texted his dad to let him know about the pregnancy, hoping against hope that Roger may want to be a grandpa. His phone had been silent from his dad for nine months. Typical Roger. Jake was determined to be a much better father than his was.

The nurse snapped Jake out of his thoughts. "Mr. Peralta, your wife is ready. Please follow me in, sit by her head, and don't touch anything."

Two hours later, Jake sat in the hospital room, holding one of his two (fraternal) daughters. (Jake had almost fainted when the doctor said, "it's another girl"). She slowly opened her eyes. "Hi beautiful," Jake said. "I'm your daddy. You and your sister are going to have a really great life." He felt an overwhelming sense of pride as the baby grasped his finger. This is what love at first sight felt like.

He looked over at Amy, holding their other daughter. "So, we agree on the names?"

"Yes. Maria Pilar and Lucy Jane. You're holding Lucy. It fits her better."

He looked at his little girl. It did fit her. She seemed to be the feistier one, and for some reason, the name was perfect.

He placed Lucy in her bassinet, and walked over to Amy. Maria was feeding, and Amy had her eyes closed, content in the moment.

Jake glanced at his little family. Three ladies to take care of. Two little girls to raise. His life would be tutus and tea parties and self-defense classes (hey, those were HIS babies and no one was going to hurt them. NO ONE.), and laughter, and college, and marriages.

Oh god. College. Marriages? Jake started to panic again.

Amy heard a thud and opened her eyes. She pushed the button beside her bed.

"I'm going to need a nurse. My husband just fainted."