Chapter Text
Where was Jake? Amy looked at his empty desk. Her coworker had been acting rather strange lately. Sometimes he suddenly got very antsy - there was no other word for it - and then he disappeared for a while. Then later he acted like nothing was wrong and pretended to be his old, exuberant self again. But something was bothering him, she was sure of it. And now he was missing once again, and she really had to ask him about the Dunsen robbery. And she was worried about him. Because she cared. About her colleague. A lot. Professionally.
She looked everywhere. Finally she found him huddled in a corner of the evidence room, looking miserable. He was sweating and appeared to be hyperventilating.
“Jake, what's wrong?”
He looked up, shocked and crawled even further into a ball. “Please go away.”
“Are you ill?”
“Just leave me alone!”
“I can't, you look awful.” She crouched down in front of him. “And what's that on your back? Are you wearing a...backpack under your hoodie?”
He looked away. “I can't...”
“Just talk to me please, Jake. You can tell me anything. Just...calm down a bit.” She held out her hand and he grabbed it. Then he started breathing more slowly.
“So what's going on?”
He looked up at her. “I'm...I'm a monster.”
“What?”
“They're wings.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Fucking wings. They want to come out, and I'm trying to keep them small.”
Amy gasped. “You're an angel?”
“No, I'm not an angel! Angels are dicks. Except Steve. Steve's alright.”
“Who is Steve?”
“He works with my dad. My dad's an angel.”
“Oh, you never told me. So have you been to heaven? What's it like?”
“Yeah, a few times. Uh, they speak French there.”
“Oh my wobbles!” Amy shrieked.
He shrugged. “But they've got really nice fries, with cheese and gravy.” Then he sighed deeply. “But this isn't supposed to happen. Getting my wings I mean. You have to take a whole bunch of exams on thermal columns and aeolian chords and stuff and do a lot of tandem flights with an instructor to earn your wings. But to me it just happened one day, and I have trouble controlling them. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and these stupid wings are out.”
Amy looked pensive. “Maybe the great Air Traffic Controller in the sky is trying to tell you something?”
“What, that I'm a dick?”
“Of course not!” she protested. “But perhaps we should go to heaven, to try to get some answers?”
“You mean...you'd come with me?”
“Hell yeah! I mean...”
“Alright, I'm sure my dad could get us both in.”
Amy nodded. “But first I have to do a bunch of shots.”
“Hi dad, this is Amy from work.”
“B-bonjour,” Nine Drink Amy burped.
“Hi Amy, nice to meet you. Is this your first time in heaven?”
“Yes and it's so pretty, like a dream! With the snow and all the little lights. Is that a real castle? Look, they've got crêpes! Jake, do you want a piece of crêpe?”
“No, thanks. Dad, can I speak to the great Air Traffic Controller?”
“No, she's busy. What's this about?”
“Well, you see, I've been sprouting wings lately and-”
“That's great! Fantastic!” Roger exclaimed. “You're a natural. Those are really really rare. Well, you can start right away. You'll make archangel in no time, mark my words!” He put his arm around Jake. “Let's get you fitted for a uniform, shall we?”
Jake pulled away. “No, I don't want to be an angel!”
“Why not? It's the greatest job in the world!” He winked at Amy. “And chicks really dig it.”
“Because I already have a job and I love it! I don't want to ferry souls around like some glorified bus driver. And I don't want to play the fucking harp, and-”
“I PLAY THE TRUMPET!” his father bellowed.
“And most of all, because I don't want to be a philandering dickhead like you! Come on, Amy, let's go home.” He grabbed her arm and dragged her along the quaint cobblestone street.
“Wait, Jake,” she pleaded.
He halted.
“Could we...maybe...go on the toboggan slide first?”
He sighed. Then he started smiling. “Alright then.”
“Well, that was fun,” Amy said back in New York.
“Yeah, it was alright,” Jake admitted, and threw his bag in a corner of his apartment.
Amy frowned at him.
“Okay, it was super awesome!” He sank down on the couch. “But I'm still stuck with these stupid wings. They're annoying and itchy and I hate them.”
“Can I...see them?”
“You want to see them? You want to see my stupid wings?”
“I mean...yeah, if you don't mind. I'm just curious.”
“Alright.” He stood up and pulled off his shirt and hoodie.
Amy started blushing and looked away. Maybe she hadn't really thought this through.
“Oh, is that what it's all about? You just want to see my handsome torso?”
“Shut up.”
He winked at her. Then he turned around, and she watched in amazement as pins and feathers grew out of his back to a fully fledged, snowy white plumage.
“Wow. Just wow. They're beautiful.”
Now it was his turn to blush.
“Can I...can I touch them?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
She carefully put her hand out and gently stroked the soft feathers. When he didn't tell her to stop she carried on a bit more boldly and straightened a few that had gone askew. “Oh, this one's a bit loose.” Then it suddenly fell into her hand. “Oops, I'm sorry.”
“No, that's fine,” he sighed. “It's been annoying me for ages.”
“Don't you preen yourself?”
“Yeah, but only where I can reach.”
“So I guess you could use a helping hand?”
“Yes, please continue.”
She methodically went through his pins and sorted his feathers like the neurotic perfectionist that she was. When she was finished she kept running her hands through his wings because it just felt so good. She sighed. “So fluffy. So soft. So strong, and tender...”
“Amy, please stop,” he moaned.
“Sorry.” She pulled her hand back. “Am I hurting you?” She moved around him to look at his face, but he turned away from her.
“No, it's...it feels good.”
“Then...?”
“Embarrassingly good.”
“Oh....” She gently touched his cheek and made him look at her. “And what if I don't mind that?”
“You...?”
“Yes.” She softly kissed him.
He stared at her in amazement. “Even now that you know what I am?”
“Jake, I've always known what you are.” She put her hand on his chest, close to his heart. “You are a good man. You're not like your father.”
He folded his wings around her and she snuggled in his soft feathers. And then they made out a bit more.
“You know,” Amy said, “You don't have to be an angel, even if you have wings.”
He nodded. “You're right.”
“You can just be a cop, a really great cop, and fly recreationally.”
He smiled. Then he looked out the window at the familiar New York skyline. “So, do you want to go for a spin?”
“I thought you'd never ask.”