A/N: This one shot is set just after the Boyle-Linetti Wedding.
I got the idea for this plot early in the week, and I couldn't shake it off so I put it in writing. Here it is, Peraltiago story #2!
I had so much fun writing this, and I think it shows in the humor. I hope you enjoy it, too. Please do fav/review if you liked this one!
"Are you sure about this, Santiago?" Jake asked for the third time that night, fidgeting nervously with the cufflinks that Captain Holt impressed upon him to wear.
"I swear, Peralta, if you ask me again I am going to punch you," Amy replied through gritted teeth as she adjusted her cascading hair, carefully coiffed to one side, to cover her wire. "You're freaking me out."
"Okay, sorry," he said, willing himself to calm down.
They were in one of the nicer cars from the impound lot. The temperature was set high for Amy's benefit, yet Jake felt clammy. It was unusual for him to feel so worried about an undercover mission. He had done this hundreds of times, assuming all sorts of identities, and yet tonight, he felt a queasiness that manifested earlier that evening and had just kept festering.
At the morning briefing two days ago, Jake and Rosa had presented the case of Michael Dorrance, an art director and gallery owner who had been linked to the Gambino crime family. It was suspected that pieces at Dorrance's gallery were sold and traded at exorbitant prices to anonymous or fictitious persons to mask several layers of money laundering. A warrant had been issued to plant a bug on him, but he was an intensely private person, and though not quite Rosa-level in mystery, he usually only went out in public when one of his galleries was launching a new exhibit. He had no known associates and he worked mostly from his heavily-guarded mansion near Mill Basin.
"There'll be another launch on Wednesday but it's by-invitation only," said Rosa.
Amy raised her hand, as was her custom during meetings. "I might be able to get you in," she said. "The Department of Art History professors at NYU always get invites to those things."
Rosa grimaced. "You still talk to your teachers?"
"Once a teacher's pet, always a teacher's pet," Amy declared proudly.
"Another classic Santiago self-burn," Jake said, grinning.
"Actually, an Art History major would be very helpful to this case," said Captain Holt. "Santiago, you and Peralta will attend the launch and find a way to plant the bug. Hopefully that will give us enough evidence to get another warrant to search his home. Diaz and Boyle, you will follow in a surveillance van."
"With all due respect, sir, I don't think Peralta will fit in at an art gallery," Amy said, looking doubtful.
"Hey, I am familiar with a lot of artists," Jake retorted. "There's Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael."
"Those are just the Ninja Turtles," Amy said, rolling her eyes.
"Peralta will go undercover as one of the waiters," said Captain Holt.
"Noice. Gonna get 'dem fancy canapes. Or as the elite like to call them, 'horse-doves,'" Jake said, wagging his eyebrows at Amy. She just sighed.
They had debated how they would plant the bug on Dorrance. Amy was confident that she could chat Dorrance up and slip a bugged item into his pocket, failing which Jake could do a classic waiter-spilling-the-tray move and knock Dorrance over. But they learned at the last minute that (a) Dorrance's events were catered by an all-female crew upon request, and (b) at the launches, Dorrance only usually approached women – in particular, attractive ones.
So, the plan was now for Amy to seek out Dorrance on her own, with Jake acting as her lookout. Jake hated knowing that Dorrance was somewhat a creep, and what made him doubly uncomfortable was that Amy would essentially be used as bait… of the sexual nature. She's a strong woman and she can handle herself, he repeated internally. Plus she's a brilliant detective.
Jake pulled into the posh driveway of the gallery. He handed the keys to the valet and helped Amy out of her seat. She wore a black evening gown with a high neckline. A large cutout at the back showed muscles that had been toned by years of consistent running and sparring since her days at the academy. She adjusted her dress slightly and linked her arm through Jake's. He could tell that they were equally tense as he handed their invitations to the door security. He slipped the cards back into his coat and placed a reassuring hand on Amy's.
They were ushered into the gallery which was stark-white save for the paintings and sculptures distributed tastefully around the hall. Jake nudged Amy and murmured, "I'll have a better vantage point from the balcony. Be careful. I'm right here."
Reluctantly, Jake released Amy's arm and made his way to the staircase. He scanned the crowd for Dorrance, but every so often his attention would wander back to Amy who was walking slowly through the corridors of the exhibit, pausing in front of certain pieces. As he watched her, he couldn't help thinking of how stunning she looked. How the dress hugged her hips and thighs and flared past her knees. How the smoky eye makeup Gina gave her intensified her gaze tenfold. How the dark red lipstick contrasted against her olive skin. At any other time, he would have been thankful to be given an excuse to just stare at her like he was doing now, but he couldn't get past the unease from what she might have to deal with tonight.
It had been two weeks since Amy had made him slow-dance with Gina's great-aunt at Lynn and Darlene's wedding. All the while, she watched him with twinkling eyes. "The stuff with us is in the past, we talked about that," she'd said when they were chasing Minsk that day. He sensed a fondness in her gaze as she stood across from him on the dance floor, and he smiled at her. When she smiled back, there was something else in her expression that he couldn't place, and in the days that followed, Jake had stolen glances at her from across his desk, trying to remember that look and guess at what it meant.
About an hour later, Jake spotted their target. He noted that Dorrance wasn't bad-looking for a creepy criminal. He had the air of affluence, and despite being described as indoorsy person, he seemed athletic and evenly sun-tanned.
"I have eyes on Dorrance. He's at your four o'clock. Gray suit," he murmured.
"About time, these heels are killing me," Amy whispered. She turned and stopped to look at a painting a few meters away from Dorrance. She caught his eye, and Jake felt bile rise up his throat. Good thing he hadn't had any of the 'horse-doves'.
Dorrance stood beside Amy, close enough that Jake could hear what he was saying though Amy's wire, which Jake found convenient but infuriating at the same time.
"A fan of Canseco-Marks, I see," Dorrance said.
"Not exactly," Amy replied.
"They say she's the new Frida Kahlo."
"I disagree," Amy said, eyes still on the painting. "Kahlo was a surrealist but her art was drawn from her personal tragedies – very weighted and forthright. Canseco-Marks's work has the elements of magical realism but it almost feels like it's purely a spectacle. It's an act of indulgence for the viewer, and there's not much beneath the surface."
Dorrance looked over at Amy with a piqued expression. "I don't think I've seen you at our other exhibits."
Amy shrugged. "I happened to be in town for work this week, and an old professor of mine gave me her invitation. I've always been curious about these… uh, launches."
Jake shook his head. Very smooth, Amy. Luckily, Dorrance didn't seem to mind.
"And how do you find it?" he asked.
Amy cocked her head. "It catches the eye. But unfortunately I'm not easily impressed, Mister…'
"Dorrance. Michael Dorrance. Please, call me Michael. And you are?"
"Lila. Lila Garcia," she said, extending her hand.
"Delighted," Dorrance said, taking Amy's hand, but instead of receiving one of Amy's firm handshakes, he lifted her hand up and placed a kiss on her fingers. It took all of Jake's self-restraint not to charge down there and strangle him.
"I apologise that we didn't meet your expectations, Lila. If you're interested, I'd like to show you the pieces in our private collection, later tonight."
"That is tempting, Michael," Amy said, "but I have another engagement tonight." She opened her purse and seemed to write something down. Jake's jaw tightened as she leaned over and murmured in a low voice, "Why don't you give me a call, and I'll make time." She slipped something into Dorrance's coat, just behind his pocket square, and walked away. Dorrance licked his lips as he watched her leave.
"Jake. Jake! Peralta!" Amy's voice resounded in Jake's earpiece. "Do you copy? I said meet me at the front steps. I really need to get out of these shoes."
"Copy that, sorry." Jake came to his senses and descended the steps from the balcony. He hadn't noticed that his fist was clenched shut the entire time, and his nails left angry red marks where they had almost punctured through the skin. He'd heard Amy's seductive voice before; she'd often used it to make fun of him when they bantered, or sometimes when they were undercover as a couple. But he'd never heard her use it for someone else, and now he couldn't think straight.
Amy stood calmly at the entrance, and he fought the urge to wrap a possessive arm across her shoulders.
"You okay?" he asked as they waited for the valet to bring the car around. She nodded.
Jake drove to the rendezvous point a block from the back of the gallery, where Rosa and Charles waited in the surveillance van, listening in to the bug that Amy had planted.
"Oh, you two look so good together," Charles gushed when they entered the van.
"Cut it out, Charles," Jake grumbled, removing the Captain's cufflinks before he could lose them.
"Nice work, Santiago," said Rosa. "Where'd you put the bug?"
"Matchbook in his breast pocket," Amy replied as she changed into flats.
Jake bit his lip. "Please tell me you did not actually give him your number."
"No, it was a burner phone. I'm not an idiot, Peralta." He watched her pull out a small bottle of hand sanitiser from her bag and rigorously scrub her fingers, especially the part that Dorrance had kissed.
Fortunately, Dorrance did end up placing calls to and taking calls from his dubious contacts that night, including a certain "Tino", who was likely to be Constantino Gambino, the head honcho of the Gambino family's finances. Rosa and Jake would work on getting the search warrant the following morning.
"You've been weirdly quiet," Amy said as Jake drove to her apartment. "Everything okay?"
"Sorry. I really appreciate your help with this case, Ames." He caught himself by surprise in using that nickname. It usually only came up in situations he felt particularly vulnerable. "And you did great. But I think we can agree that neither of us enjoyed it."
"Neither of Us Enjoyed It, title of your sex tape! Ha! Beat you at your own game! Whoo!" Amy cheered, pumping her fists in the air and doing a tapered-down version of her signature victory dance in the limited space of the car.
Jake shook his head and chuckled slightly despite his perturbance. "Dork."
"Hey," said Amy, giving a small smile and placing a hand on his arm. "I felt a lot braver knowing you were there. And now it's done, and I'm fine, and we got what we needed, right?"
Jake nodded. "Right. Glad that's over."
They reached Amy's apartment building and Jake walked her up to her unit, holding her stilettos while she fished in her purse for her keys. "Thanks, Jake," she said, taking the shoes. "See you tomorrow."
"Amy?"
"Mm-hmm?"
"For what it's worth, you look amazing."
"Gina worked wonders with the make-up," Amy replied, shaking her head.
"That has nothing to do with it," Jake said suddenly, making Amy's eyebrows raise. "Well, good night!" He saluted and walked away without looking back. Once outside, he just sat in the car for a while, and like a sappy teenager, he wondered if Amy was watching him through her window.
What he meant was, Amy took his breath away whenever she let her strength shine in difficult situations. Sure, she looked nice when she dressed up and put a face on for dates or special occasions, but it only ever enhanced what was already there. Jake didn't feel more attracted to her whenever she was made up; he liked her however she appeared. She was beautiful in the morning briefings, when she sat up straight, not a hair out of place, and in the late evenings, when her eyelids were drooping from exhaustion. She was beautiful when she laughed, when she argued with him, when she sat in the break room filling out crossword puzzles, and when she took down perps twice her size.
Jake had noticed this right away when they'd met five years ago, and it was something that had been reaffirmed over and over as he sat across from her and worked alongside her. But what he hadn't noticed was when exactly it was that Amy's beauty had transitioned from a mere physical observation to something that he actively wanted to be around all the time, if only because it was part and parcel of the being that was Amy Santiago, his partner, his rival (to some extent), his friend, and now a seemingly constant presence in his subconscious.
He sighed and started the car.
The warrant to search Dorrance's mansion for his ledgers and records, printed and electronic, was issued on Thursday morning. Jake and Rosa sat in Captain Holt's office, throwing out ideas on how best to go about the search. Rosa was worried that Dorrance would wipe out the data on the computers as soon as they arrived at the gate. They had to find a way to make sure that Dorrance would be out when the search was conducted, but there wouldn't be another exhibit launch until the next month.
"Sorry to interrupt, Captain," Amy said, rapping on the door. "But I couldn't help lip-reading that you were discussing the Dorrance case."
"You should really stop doing that, Santiago. It is impertinent." said Captain Holt.
"Again, sorry, but I may know how to draw him out. Dorrance called the burner phone. He left his number and wants to have dinner with me – I mean, with Lila Garcia."
"What?" Jake said, straightening up in his seat. "When did he call?"
"Past midnight. It went to voicemail."
"It could work," said Rosa. "We could do the search while he's at dinner."
"No. This is a terrible idea," Jake countered. He didn't want that guy anywhere near Amy ever again.
"It seems like our most viable option," said Captain Holt.
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew it was the best course of action to take, but he couldn't stomach the thought of Dorrance hitting on Amy for an entire evening, and her being literally in a corner, having nowhere to go. "Fine, but I'm going with Santiago to the restaurant."
"He might've spotted you at the gallery. Boyle can go as an undercover food critic or something," Rosa suggested.
"Yes, I agree. Boyle will do surveillance inside the restaurant. Peralta, you will remain outside and stall Dorrance if he tries to leave early. Diaz and Jeffords can oversee the search at his home," Captain Holt said. "Make the call, Santiago."
Amy retrieved the phone from her desk and brought it to Captain Holt's office. She dialed the number and put the call on loudspeaker.
"Lila, hi," Dorrance answered on the fourth ring.
"Hello, Michael."
"So, dinner tonight?" he asked.
"Uhh…" Amy paused for confirmation. The Captain nodded.
Dorrance continued, "You promised you'd make time."
Amy took a deep breath. There was a distinct flush across her cheeks when she said with a low voice, "Only if you promise to make it worth my while."
"Damn, girl," Rosa mouthed, looking impressed, in response to which Amy rolled her eyes.
Jake wanted to die a little.
Dorrance laughed. "Oh I will. Where are you staying?"
"The Acropolis," Amy replied.
"I'll pick you up at eight."
"See you then."
Amy hung up, and Jake felt like he was suffocating. He didn't wait for Captain Holt to say 'dismissed' before standing up to leave.
"Charles, a word, please," Jake called as he walked to the men's room.
"Sure, buddy!"
Jake shook his head when Charles sang "Clubhooouse!" as he closed the door. "What's up, Jakey?"
"Amy will be having dinner with Dorrance tonight," said Jake.
"Oh no, Jake. I feel so bad for you. Are you heartbroken? Do you need a ten-minute hug?"
"What? No. It's not a real date. She's going undercover again. You'll be keeping an eye on her in the restaurant as an undercover food critic."
Charles's eyes widened into saucers as he gasped, "This is the Best. Day. Ever!"
"Charles," Jake sighed.
"I mean, ayt, it's ayt, I can do that." Charles said, crossing his arms.
"Buddy," Jake said, putting his hands on his best friend's shoulders and looking him in the eye. "This is important. He's a real creep and I don't want him around her. I know she can take care of herself but I'd really like the extra assurance. Promise me you'll be hypervigilant."
"As vigilant as I've ever been in watching your love blossom since day one!" Charles said, puffing his chest.
"Ugh," Jake said, cringing.
"Say no more, Jake. I will be your eyes and ears. I will avenge you with every fibre of my being."
"Okay, gross. But I'm counting on it. Thanks, man."
They dropped Amy off at the lobby of The Acropolis, where she stood in sensible pumps this time. Gina had done a number on her again tonight, though with softer, more neutral make-up. Amy's hair framed her face in loose waves. She wore a burgundy knee-length halter-top dress with a teardrop-shaped slit smack in the middle of the chest. "It's called a keyhole, Jake. Know your fashion terms," Gina had drawled, when he asked if she could preferably lend Amy a dress that had zero slits and would show the least amount of skin possible.
Charles and Jake sat in an unmarked vehicle near the hotel driveway, ready to tail Dorrance's car when he arrived. At exactly eight o'clock, a BMW pulled up, and Amy got inside.
"Wow, I have to say, he's very punctual," Charles remarked. Then, seeing Jake's glare, he added, "Not that that would impress Amy at all, I mean, tardy is the new trendy, am I right?"
"Charles."
"Okay, I'll stop."
They pulled up to Troubadour, an up-and-coming place frequented by eclectics and, according to a very excited Charles, famous for its wine-infused meals. Jake and Charles watched Amy and Dorrance enter, her arm linked through his.
"I have to say, this is not where I'd expected you'd take me," they heard Amy say.
"I'm full of surprises," Dorrance replied. "And I have a feeling you are, too."
"Amy, please don't get drunk on the wine-infused everything," Jake said into the radio. "Same for you, Charles," Jake said, glancing at Charles in the passenger's seat.
"Oh, don't worry about me, Jake. You know I'm just going to spit everything out."
"Ugh. Just get in there."
Charles got out of the car, and before closing the door, he stuck his head back inside. "And it's not Charles, it's Edgar Champollion, illegitimate child of world-renowned chef Henri-Luc Champollion, who inherited his philandering father's legendary taste buds and insatiable sex drive."
Jake chuckled. At least someone was having fun. He messaged Rosa and Terry that Dorrance had gone inside the restaurant, then he crossed his arms and slumped back on the driver's seat.
Two years ago, he would have jumped up at the chance to listen in on Amy trying to flirt with a criminal, and he would have found it downright hilarious. But that was when Amy was just another cop at the Nine-Nine, before she'd laughed uninhibitedly with him at that rooftop in Barton Street, and before her "maybe… yes?" at that inn in Neustadter had shaken him to the core.
"So, what kind of work brought you to Brooklyn?" Dorrance asked.
"Publishing. I'm a literary agent, and I met with an author here."
"Oh, what was the book about, if I may ask?"
"It was about… uh... Pilsners."
"Pilsners?"
"Yeah, the author loves pilsners so much that he wrote a compendium." Jake snorted at that.
"Let me guess, since you're not easily impressed, you hated it?"
"Well, not exactly. I'd say it was mostly good. You could tell that the author really put a lot of heart into it. It was very smart and thoroughly researched. The writing was sincere and consistent. But it just didn't click with the reader; there was no spark. I told him that he tended to stay on the safe side and at some point it gets very predictable and boring."
"Ouch. How'd he take it?"
"He was a sport about it, actually. He said he was willing to revise the manuscript to make it resonate with the reader better. Who knows, next time I see him, he might have something I can work with."
Jake's eyebrows knitted. Was Amy just making this up or was she actually thinking of getting back together with Teddy? Their breakups, though just as messy, had gone very differently. Teddy had been so hung up on Amy that he still reached out to her constantly in the weeks that followed, while Sophia had dropped Jake like a hot potato, probably happy that her professional life got a lot less complicated after she'd dissociated herself from the cop she had dated.
"Jake," Charles called. "He just reached for his phone. Might be someone from the mansion letting him know that the cops are there."
"Oh no, getting called away on business already?" Amy said coyly.
Dorrance laughed. "Well, one of the perks of being the boss is that you are at liberty to ignore everyone when there's something more important in front of you. And I promised I'd make this worth your while."
"Man, she is good," said Charles.
Sure, thought Jake, rolling his eyes. Hopefully Rosa and Terry would be able to seize everything they needed from the mansion in the next fifteen minutes so they could pull the plug on this thing already.
"So, what do you do for fun?" Amy fished.
"Paragliding," said Dorrance. "There's nothing like feeling the cold wind on your face, having the sun in your eyes, and seeing nothing but blue for miles around."
"Sounds amazing," said Amy, "I'd like to try that sometime."
Jake scoffed. Cold air, too much sun without sunscreen, and boundless horizons would easily make it to the top ten of Amy's most hated things.
"Oh, are you a fellow thrill-seeker?"
Amy laughed. "No, not at all. But I've been told I can be dull and very uptight, so maybe I should try leaving my comfort zone every now and then."
"I can't imagine how anyone could describe you as dull."
"I have once been called the personification of the colour beige."
Jake actually had heard Gina say that.
"Beige isn't bad," Dorrance said. "It's elegant."
"Not everyone sees it that way," Amy replied.
"I do. And I definitely like what I see."
Jake let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed his phone to text Rosa.
Thursday, 8:52pm
Pls tell me u have sumthing
Thursday, 8:53pm
Rosa D.
It's all here. We got him.
Jake thanked the heavens.
"Santiago, Boyle, we got him. I'm going in," he said into the radio as he grabbed his gun. Well, he could have let Charles bring Dorrance in, but he personally wanted to cuff that bastard and drag him as far away from Amy as he could. He entered the dimly-lit restaurant and scanned the tables. He made eye contact with Amy, who looked only slightly tipsy. She flicked her gaze back to Dorrance. Charles stood up and joined him.
"Michael Dorrance?" said Jake as they approached the table. Amy pretended to look surprised.
"Can I help you?"
Yeah, you can go rot in hell, thought Jake.
"NYPD. You are under arrest for money laundering as penalised under sections 1956 and 1957 of Title 18 of the United States Code." Jake saw Amy's eyebrows raise. He totally just memorised that to impress her. Also, he found the word 'penalised' funny.
"What? There must be some mistake," Dorrance said.
"The only mistake here is that you thought a bad guy like you could get a lovely lady like her," said Jake, winking at Amy. She rolled her eyes at him but he could see that she was suppressing a smile. He cuffed Dorrance and read him his Miranda rights.
"Lila, I'm so sorry about this. It's all a big misunderstanding, I swear," Dorrance called over his shoulder as Jake and Charles brought him outside.
"Date's over, Michael," Amy said faux-sweetly, flashing her badge and falling in step with Jake and Charles.
Dorrance just gaped at her, dumbfounded. "I guess you are full of surprises."
When Jake and Rosa finished interrogating Dorrance, it was almost eleven o'clock. Jake had expected the precinct to be deserted by then, and he was surprised to find Amy still filling up forms at her desk. Thankfully, she had changed back into her work clothes. That keyhole was really distracting him.
"It's late, Santiago. What are you still doing here?"
"I think I worked up so much nervous energy during that dinner and now I'm feeling all amped up," she said. "How'd it go with Dorrance?"
"He's agreed to implicate members of the Gambino clan in exchange for a reduced sentence," Jake said, adjusting the strap of his bag. "He also begged to see you one last time before being detained but I refused."
"Ha-ha, Jake," Amy said, closing the folder she'd been working on. "Come on, I'll give you a ride."
Jake studied the shadows of the streetlights on Amy's face as she drove. He watched her make a signal each time she changed lanes even when there were no other cars on the road.
"You're not dull, you know," Jake said.
"Hmm?" Amy said, glancing at him briefly with a confused expression.
"What you said earlier. I know we tease you a lot about being so prim and proper and always colouring within the lines, me especially. But that doesn't make you dull. Maybe you're high-strung, and you can be super intense about things, but I like that about you. You throw everything you've got into what you do, so you always end up doing really well even though you're constantly around goofballs like me who sometimes don't take the work seriously." He was aware that he was just rambling now, but he was apprehensive of what Amy would say if he let her speak. So he went on, "You don't have to change that. You're great the way you are."
Amy was quiet for a bit, then when they stopped at a red light, she reached for his hand and smiled at him. "Thank you for saying that, Jake."
He let her hand stay there momentarily, until the light turned green and she had to switch gears. When they arrived at Jake's apartment, he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed his bag from the backseat.
"Hey, Jake?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm still kind of amped up. Could we maybe hang out for a bit?"
"Sure," Jake said. "Come on up."
He was used to having Amy over at his apartment. Since their second year of working together, she would sometimes drop by to go over case files on weekends, watch reruns when they were bored, or just hang out and eat leftovers. But tonight, the air felt particularly thick, and somehow the lighting in the hallway seemed dimmer.
Jake set a bottle of beer down in front of Amy and took a swig from his own. He sat next to her on his couch where she'd been fiddling with his Magic 8 Ball.
"Did you mean what you said?" he asked.
"Are you asking me or the ball?" Amy said, flashing a cheeky smile.
"Obviously the ball, Santiago."
Amy indulged him and shook the ball. "'Better not tell you now'," she read.
"Great, even my Magic 8 Ball likes repressing things," Jake murmured into his drink.
"What's that?"
Jake cleared his throat. "I meant back at the restaurant. Did you mean what you said?"
"About wanting to go paragliding?" she said, scrunching her nose and placing the ball on the table. "God, no. It sounds awful. Too much cold and too much sun at the same time? Yikes."
Jake shook his head. "Not that. The part about Teddy. About maybe giving him another chance."
"I don't remember mentioning Teddy," she said, smirking and taking a swig of the beer.
Jake gave her a look and she laughed.
"No, not really. I mean, he does tell me that he's been trying to be more interesting, quote unquote. I'm actually a bit scared to find out what he means by that. And he has asked repeatedly if we could give it another try, but I never really considered it. Why do you want to know?"
Jake tried to think of a good response, one that would make sense of his muddled thoughts and feelings in the recent weeks, but since he was Jake Peralta, he knew that he would end up making a giant mess of things anyway. Eyes closed, head first, can't lose.
He set his bottle down on the table and looked at Amy, taking a deep breath. "I hate that I always have to see you with another guy for it to finally hit me."
Amy's eyebrows knitted. "What?"
"The first time I realised that I really liked you, romantic-stylez, was back at Tactical Village. 'Cause I saw you with Teddy, and I got so jealous, and for the longest time I just wished that I'd beat him to it, you know? Asked you out first?"
He wasn't sure if he was making sense, but Amy was just quiet. Her eyes darted to the bottle in her hands. He took this as a signal to continue.
"And then again with Dorrance. I get that you were undercover, but I just wanted to punch him so hard in the face for even looking at you the way he did. And it's ridiculous because I don't own you or anything – no one does – but that's how I know now."
"Know what?" Amy asked, her eyes meeting his again.
"That I still like you. A lot. And I've just been in denial about it for weeks now."
Amy's eyes widened and her lips parted slightly in surprise. She looked back down at her bottle, and the two of them sat in silence for a while.
"Well, I wasn't expecting this to happen when I asked to hang out tonight," she finally said, setting her bottle down on the table slowly.
Jake swallowed hard, and his jaw clenched when Amy began to stand up. He braced himself to watch her walk straight out of his apartment without so much as a goodbye, convinced that he had ruined their relationship for good.
To his surprise, Amy turned to face him, and in one quick motion, she was straddling him and she had crashed her mouth onto his, her hands cupping his face. Before Jake could react, she pulled away, and he was sure he looked stunned and flushed. Meanwhile, Amy had a triumphant look on her face, not unlike her expression whenever she managed to outdo him by figuring out a case before he did. Well, she'd certainly outdone him now.
He chuckled and tugged her back down, relishing the feel of her lips against his, taking in the nutty taste of the malt. Amy ran her tongue over Jake's lower lip, making him moan almost involuntarily. She giggled, proud that she'd bested him again, and in retaliation, Jake held onto her firmly as he deepened the kiss.
They gasped for breath as they pulled apart, Amy's forehead resting against his. "Told you I was amped up," she murmured, smiling.
Jake grinned back at her like an idiot. "I can't believe this is finally happening."
"I Can't Believe This Is Finally Happening, title of our sex tape," Amy said.
"Santiago, are you propositioning me?" Jake said with a mock-scandalised tone. Amy just raised her eyebrow at him suggestively. "Because I am definitely accepting."
Amy squealed as Jake lifted her off the couch and onto the bed.
"Jake. Jake." When Jake opened his eyes, Amy was nudging his shoulder as she lay across from him under his comforter.
"What time is it?" he asked, his voice still gravelly with sleep.
"It's six thirty."
"Mmm. Too early," he mumbled as he inched forward and wrapped an arm around her.
"We're gonna be late for work," Amy protested.
Jake chuckled. "Ames, I've waited for this for over a year. Work can wait a few minutes."
They were more than just a few minutes late for work that morning.