- the shoes -


Amy Santiago did not lose face. No no no.

Well, sometimes she did, but it was never intentionally, and when she could help it, she didn't. Never.

Even if right now, it meant trying really, really hard not to cry as she listened to whatever Kevin and the Sarge were talking about.

She and Jake had a fight tonight. It wasn't anything serious, but they were both pissed, and as they got ready for the party, it just kept going, anything the other said or did getting a nasty comment from the other.

("Would you hurry? We're already late!"

"Oh yeah, because you're always so on time, Jake."

"I was actually thinking of you, darling. It might be difficult to take the opportunity to suck up to Holt again if you dare show up three minutes late, right?")

And on and on and on. (Title of their sextape, he would add. The idiot.)

When they finally headed out, she was too busy yelling at him to notice what shoes she was putting on. Giving him, of course, the perfect opportunity to retort.

"Right, I'm the dumb one. By the way, you just put on the heels that hurt your feet, genius", he made a face at her.

Shit. He was right; tt was the pair that made her want to kill herself after ten minutes. But of course, now it was too late to back out.

Shit, shit, shit.

"They don't hurt me anymore", she said, holding his gaze as she forced herself to put on the second shoe, already dreading the pain.

"Oh really? So you didn't plan on "blowing those stupid things up just like we did with Scully's shoes"?", he mockingly made quotations gestures with his fingers, reminding her of the last (horrible) time she wore them.

"No, I didn't. Now let's go", she headed out, head high. Being right was a matter of confidence, anyway.

Oh God, they already hurt.

Which brought her here, three hours into the party, wishing she was dead.

They had long made up by now, but there was still no way she was letting Jake know he was right. Although he was busy laughing with Charles and some other guys at the other end of the room. If she took them off now, he wouldn't see it, and it would only be for a second, anywa -

"Santiago, are you okay?"

The Sarge's voice startled her, bringing her back to reality where he and Kevin were both staring at her, looking worried.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine!", she said with too much enthusiasm, and they looked at her as if she just been released out from the mental institution Gina once try to book her in. "I'm just uh – tired. A bit tired", she chuckled nervously, and it didn't seem to help her case.

"Right."

Two hours later, everybody was going home, drunkenly and happily chatting. They said their goodbye, wishing Rosa good luck as she ended up being the one that had to bring Gina home after her ten or so mojitos, and left.

It was warm, the party had been nice – despite the obvious problem she had to suffer -, Jake had his arm draped over her shoulders, making her laugh as they headed to the end of the street, and if it hadn't been for her stupid feet in her stupid shoes, her night would have perfect. It had ruined the all thing, but at least now they could just get in a taxi and -

"Hey, there's not a lot of cabs around here, let's just walk."

She stopped dead on her tracks, horrified.

Which wasn't exactly smooth, really, as as they were basically intertwined, it made it stop, too, looking at her under furrowed eyebrows.

"What's up? You forgot something over there?"

Frustration taking over, she threw her arms in the air, despair making her want to start sobbing right now.

"Fine! I'm in pain, okay? I've been in so, so much pain for so, so many hours. At one point, I was so angry that I nearly made a remark at the Captain when he walked on my right foot and I thought I was gonna pass out. So, yes, here you go; you win!", she finished, breathless, collapsing on the staircase close to them.

"What's going – is it the shoes?", he asked, confused, as she started rubbing her ankles.

"Yeah, it's the shoes", she answered, bitter even if it really wasn't his fault, and felt guilty for it. "You win", she repeated.

Realization finally seemed to hit him, and he rolled his eyes, laughing a little.

"You suffered in those thing for five hours so you would be right. Really, Ames?", he came to sit next to her. "You're crazy."

"Am not!", she answered automatically, conceding when he looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Okay, I am. It hurts so bad", she whined, dropping her head on his shoulder.

He chuckled, kissing her forehead softly, running his hand soothingly on her cheek for a few seconds.

"Come here", he said – without, she noticed, even pointing out how right he had been -, adjusting them so her legs were over his lap. "Let's take off those bad boys."

Gently, he took the shoes of her, grimacing every time she winced.

"Does it still hurt them, or can I rub them?", he looked up at her, his big brown eyes gentle as he waited for her call.

"It's okay", she smiled, arm tightening around his shoulders, hoping he would get how grateful she was. "You can go ahead, it's not that bad."

Well, at least that what she thought until his hand actually touch her feet, that is.

"Aow, aow, no no, I was wrong, it's that bad!", she almost yelled, and he shook his head, half pitying, half amused.

"Oh, Amy Santiago", he chuckled, cupping her cheek instead, kissing her frown away.

She let him, bringing her other arm around him to bring him close. They kissed for a while before he pulled away slightly, face inches from hers.

He tasted like vodka, redbull and Jake, and her heart did the stupid skipping a beat thing when he smiled at her again. It's been five months, for God's sake.

"So. Ready to go home, champion?", he asked against her lips, pecking her one last time.

"Ugh", she grimaced, already dreading to put those things back on as he got up. "I'm gonna die. I hate those stupid things. As soon as we're home, they're in the trash", she grumbled.

"You should really sell them to Gina instead. I think she likes them, and she hasn't felt her feet in years – her words. Come on, grab those bad boys and up, cow boy!", he grinned like the five year-old that he was.

"What?"

"Well, you can't walk bare foot in New-York, even I wouldn't do that, and there's no way you're putting those back on, so", he happily gestured towards his back with his thumbs, "you have no choice here, detective : piggie back riiiiide!"

She laughed, rolling her eyes for good measure at his over the top enthusiasm as she grabbed her shoes in her hands and climbed up on his back, happy to finally catching a break – and yeah, to be riding ten block carried by her adorable dork, too.

"Here we go!", he announced proudly when she was settled. "Best boyfriend ever or what?"

Arms around his neck, she smiled and pressed a kiss against his cheek. "Something like that."