One-drink Amy is sitting alone at a booth, her gaze lost in the distance when Jake joins her, putting a quick, sweet peck on her lips before he sits in front of her and starts talking, a grin lighting up his face and his right hand curling around a glass of champagne. She watches him as he speaks, barely registering what he tells her, her eyes scanning his features with a dreamy smile covering her own. She can't seem to focus on what he has to say, too caught up in her own thoughts about how handsome her husband is in that tux, and how amazing it is to be able to call him that. She's the luckiest woman alive, having someone like himby her side and get to take his name right next to hers. Amy Santiago Peralta – it truly has a nice ring to it. Her beam turns bigger, brighter with each new thought crossing her mind like that, and in front of her, Jake frowns because though he really likes the way she looks at him, the way she's glowing, as if he's another wonder of this world, as if she just passed another of her so-loved tests, she doesn't seem to be willing to answer his question anytime soon. "Ames?" he calls her then, but she only hums in return.
"Ames, are you listening to me?" He wonders, which finally takes her out of her trance and makes her blush at the realisation that she's only been staring all along and has no clue what he's talking about.
"Sorry, what were you saying?"
Jake lets out an amused sigh – he knows her, and thus knows about her drunkenness scale –, shaking his head in fake-disappointment. "Thanks, babe, is this how you plan on treating your new husband?" He jokes, and she rolls her eyes for answer, not bothering saying anything else, simply stealing his drink from his grasp instead and downing it in one.
Two-drinks Amy is much more talkative and a lot louder as well. It doesn't seem to bother Jake, though, despite all the eyes stuck on them as they're lost in a conversation – on the contrary, he can't help but look at her with a grin growing bigger and bigger every time his wife yells for the whole bar to know how much she loves him or calls him her husband from the top of her lungs.
He can't blame the alcohol for making him answer her loudly (he is quite drunk as well, he has to admit) but when he takes her hands in both of his, he makes sure everyone around them hears the I love you so much too, my wife he lets out in amusement while marveling at her, before he leans in and kisses her for the umpteenth time this night. He swears her lips feel even better against his ever since they sealed their union a few hours earlier already and can't seem to want to stop kissing them.
Three-drinks Amy has been claiming the dancefloor as her own from barely 5 minutes after she downed her third glass of champagne of the night when she eventually leaves it, only to come back a few minutes later taking Jake by the hand and out of his watching point at the counter, leading him in the middle of the room with her. People around them leave them some space when they see them coming and, despite the music truly not being slow-dance appropriate, Amy still wraps her arms around her husband's neck while his own naturally find their place at her waist. Their foreheads gently bump into each other and they close their eyes as they start moving in silence and shared rhythm, not paying attention to anything else than the other. "This is fun," Jake eventually lets out in a dreamy whisper, eyes still shut and heart pounding with love in his chest. Amy doesn't open hers either, but she can easily picture the smile on his face, matching her own, when she hums in agreement.
It is fun indeed – and nice, and it feels like home, being inside her husband's tight, though ever-so gentle, embrace.
(When they eventually part a few minutes later, she even manages to steal a quick dance with Holt when she complains about not having had her father-daughter dance like she dreamed of it before Jake comes in and saves their boss by offering her another drink.)
Four-drinks Amy is back in a booth, with Jake and other people by her side this time, and even some others facing them, all members of their squad-slash-family. The moon is shining high outside as it's getting really late in the night, and the woman barely listens to her friends' conversations, other thoughts going through her intoxicated mind as she lets her hand wander over her husband's thigh, squeezing lightly, her nails brushing the skin there over the fabric. Her eyes are locked on his bow tie – she can't stop thinking about how much she wants to untie it and open the buttons of this white shirt of his. They're filled with lust when Jake turns to look at her, trying to contain the fire in his own that's burning his whole body because of what her teasing touch is starting to do to him – he might be completely drunk as well at this point, but he's conscious enough to remember they're in a public place and surrounded by all of their close colleagues.
When she scoots closer to his side and whispers some secret, suggestive words into his ear, pressing him to go home – and not because she's tired –, he's quick to meet her request and excuse themselves to their friends, telling them they're leaving before leading her out by the hand after some long, last goodbyes. Not even Charles's remark about them going to make babies and trying to give them some tips about what to after sex for it to work manages to calm the flame in them down and, the minute they're out in the empty street, waiting for a cab to bring them home, Amy kisses the breathe out of her husband without a warning, and it takes him all the little remaining clear parts of him to wait until they're back in their apartment for him to help his wife out of that gorgeous dress of hers.
(It's only coming full circle, they think, when they're cuddling in bed later that night, the woman's hand tracing lazy patterns on Jake's bare chest, both their gaze stuck dreamily on the ring on her left finger, ending their first night as a married couple with four-drinks Amy, just like they did on the night of their very first date and found themselves in a similar position afterwards.)