Chapter Text
“Alright, this is the last box!” Jake shouts loud enough to be heard across the apartment, ripping the tape off the large cardboard box full of miscellaneous knick-knacks and items that he refused to part with. He’s positive Amy only let him keep them because she feels a little bit bad he had to give up his apartment (even though hers was the obvious choice) but the image of a Die Hard poster among her fancy china cabinets and antique furniture is just too good. Besides, they’re both excited to make it their apartment versus simply her apartment that he’s living in.
“Awesome, babe!” He hears Amy’s voice from the kitchen, where she’s unpacking his pretty limited supply of cutlery and appliances.
With the realization that he’s one box away from fully cohabiting with his favourite person in the world, Jake smiles to himself as he begins to pull random objects out of the box a little faster than he did the last few.
“Okay, magic eight ball, where should you go?” he mumbles to himself, glancing around the room at the nice, soft aesthetic Amy’s created with her choice of decor. “Yeah, maybe in a drawer for now.”
He strolls over to her desk, opening the drawer filled with documents and various writing utensils and stationery. He plops the ball in next to the stapler, his eyes barely glancing over some of the highly-organized papers and catching an envelope, mostly obscured by an insurance form, with the FBI seal in the corner.
His interest immediately piqued, he glances behind him to make sure Amy’s still in the other room and picks up the envelope, which isn’t sealed. Inside are two folded sheets of paper, the second falling to the desk as he reads the first one.
Detective Amy Santiago,
I would like to inform you that Detective Jacob Peralta is still in Witness Protection and will continue to be for an indefinite amount of time. I am unable to update you on the case, but I assure you the Bureau is doing everything we can to find Jimmy Figgis. Since it has been six months, I have decided to allow you to write a one-page letter to Jacob, which I will read to him and subsequently incinerate. Please enclose your letter in this same envelope and deliver it to the address you were given before Jacob’s departure, it will be passed on to me.
Marshal Haas
Taking in a sharp breath, he realizes what the other letter must be. Given the fact that the Nine-Nine came down to Florida to help catch Figgis only a few days after the six-month mark, she must’ve never had the chance to deliver it. His heart begins to beat faster as he reads the first line - his name, in her perfect, neat handwriting.
Dear Jake,
We both know brevity isn’t my strong suit, and since it’s impossible to fit six months into one page, I’m going to try to give you the highlights.
Charles and Genevieve adopted a four-year old, his name is Nikolaj and Charles never stops talking about him but he’s actually pretty cute. Rosa’s good, she says to tell you she nodded slightly (I assume you know what that means). Gina is...Gina. Terry and Sharon and the kids are doing well. We got a new captain today, he’s a complete idiot but at least it’s only until Holt comes back. Everyone misses you guys so much.
I’m doing okay. As okay as I can be without you, I guess. It’s really hard sometimes. It’s always hard, but some days are worse than others. I haven’t been doing much lately other than staring at the phone waiting for the call that you’re coming home. I know you’re safe there, but please don’t do anything reckless that could jeopardize that no matter how long you’re gone. I want you home so badly, but if he finds you I’m never gonna get that call. I need to get that call.
I love you so much. I love you more every single day. I worry about you constantly - please remember to drink water and eat vegetables and get some exercise. I know this must be so hard and scary for you, but hopefully it won’t be too much longer. I can’t wait for you to come back to me.
Love,
Amy
What breaks him, making him collapse into the chair beside him and sending tears down his cheeks, is not the heart-wrenching words she wrote for him months ago - it’s the faint stains on the page in the shape of teardrops.
While he was in Florida, slowly deteriorating and feeling his former self slip away along with his hope of returning home, she was sitting at this very desk crying over his absence. Missing him, worrying about him, loving him more every single day.
“You need some help finishing with the-“
He turns slightly to face the figure standing in the doorway. In pyjama shorts, a loose black tank top, and with her hair pulled back in a ponytail that’s now messy from hours of moving boxes, she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Jake, what’s wrong?” She scurries over to him, frowning. “Why are you crying?”
He doesn’t realize his eyes are puffy and his cheeks are wet with tears until she’s standing right next to him, her hand cupping his face. He lifts the letter in his hand for her to see, her eyes widening as he finally looks up at her.
“Oh...”
“I never knew about this,” he chokes out, reaching out for her from where he still sits in the chair and resting his hand on her waist.
“I know,” she says, her hand moving from his face to rest on his shoulder. “We went to Florida the next day. I never delivered it.”
He nods, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Yeah, I just meant I- I didn’t know about this at all. About how hard it was for you.”
Her face, initially etched with concern, now flashes with a look of pain and loneliness at the memory of their separation. Even now, when they’re approaching the mark of him being back for as long as he was gone, he still sees this look sometimes when someone mentions Florida or WitSec in general.
“Of course it was, Jake,” she says quietly. “After I got used to being with you, not being with you wasn’t really an option anymore.”
He knows the feeling. There are too many memories clogging his brain that he wishes would fade of eating soggy burritos in the hot tub or staring at the photo of Amy in the storage unit because it was all he had.
“C’mere.”
Needing to be close to her, he tugs on her waist and turns her around so she gently falls into his lap. Her arms wind around his neck while her head finds his shoulder. He kisses her forehead for the version of himself known as Larry Sherbet, who wasn’t sure at times if he would ever be able to do that again. Larry would’ve given anything in the world to hold her like this during the hot, sleepless Florida nights.
“Thanks for coming home to me,” she murmurs, her lips pecking his collarbone.
“Thanks for waiting for me to come home,” he responds, his arms around her body clutching her a little tighter. “And thanks for being super cheesy in that letter, because I’m totally gonna bring it up all the time now.”
She slaps his arm half-heartedly, still relaxed against him. “Hey, you would’ve been cheesy too if you were allowed to write one.”
“Definitely, but we will never have proof of it,” he says, hand stroking her leg. “Unless you ask Captain Holt how many times I whined about missing you after I had downed a bottle of whiskey and he’d searched my living room for bugs and cameras again.”
He says it like a joke, but she only hugs him closer and buries her face in his neck. He supposes the thought of him drunkenly talking about how much he misses his girlfriend does seem pretty sad. It was pretty sad.
“I love you, roomie,” he murmurs.
“I love you too.” She pulls away to face him properly, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Although, we’re not officially living together until you finish unpacking that box.”
“Okay, okay, okay...or, hear me out, what if we unpack it later and have sex now?”
He looks up at her with big puppy dog eyes, employing his foolproof method of stroking her inner thigh gently with his thumb.
“Jake...I really want to get this done,” she says, but he can already hear the willpower fading in her voice.
“Does it really matter if we have sex with or without the Die Hard poster hung up?”
She bites her lip. “Well, I guess n-“
Taking that as all the approval he needs, he scoops her up and walks her over to the bed so conveniently close to them. The bed that is now their bed, in their room, in their home. He admitted to himself a long time ago, however, that home was wherever she was - specifically, in the moment that she kissed him in the back of an ambulance in Coral Palms and Brooklyn suddenly became just a place on a map.