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Jake’s not sure how he managed to go 35 years without knowing that claustrophobia is a real and terrible thing and not some made up word that other people use when they want to sound dramatic. (Other people who aren’t his amazing girlfriend. Amy hates enclosed spaces, and he always believed that hate is real, but let’s be honest – he kind of thought it was a control-freak thing. Now he knows she was correct to fear imminent asphyxiation.)
But this is the second time in a week that he’s been stuck in a tiny room with walls that are definitely closing in like something straight out of freakin’ Indiana Jones and an air vent that is absolutely sealed shut because it’s obvious he’s not getting enough oxygen and that’s why he’s gasping and his head is spinning and there are weird sparks dancing at the corner of his vision.
Holt and Laverne are still talking and maybe they’re saying something to him now, he’s not really sure (his eyes are still squeezed shut to avoid listening to them – it made sense at the time). Jake is just about to ask Holt to break out a slide rule and calculate how much air is left in the interrogation room – because there are three people in here now, damnit, and surely that’s at least two too many – when the door suddenly shoves open and Jake opens his eyes and there’s Amy, hesitating at the threshold, eyes gone wide as she takes in the occupants.
“Oh! Sorry, I thought this was empty, I’ll just-” And she goes to close the door again.
Their chorus of “No!” ricochets off the walls. Jake literally dives for the door and pulls it wide open. He’s panting, which is making it difficult to take in deep breaths of the sweet, sweet bullpen air outside this tiny asphyxia chamber.
“Um,” Amy says, and neatly sidesteps so Jake can escape. He stops just outside the room and closes his eyes and spreads his arms wide, chest expanding to make more space for his lungs to fill with oxygen.
“Thank you, Detective,” Holt says. Jake glances over in time to see Amy making a face like a (very cute) fish, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as Holt escorts his mother out of the interrogation room.
“Sir,” Jake says, because he loves Amy so much, “I don’t think Detective Santiago has met your mother.”
Holt scowls at him – he’s been remarkably, and scarily, emotive since Laverne showed up at the precinct – but it’s a brief thing and then he’s smoothly turning back to Amy, even as Laverne steps past her son and reaches out a hand.
“Laverne Holt,” she says.
“Oh, I know,” Amy says.
Jake swears her whole body is vibrating, like she’s barely holding her very molecules together right now. For a second he’s afraid she’s going to admit to stanning Laverne online but then Amy seems to get some small hold on herself and she throws her shoulders back as she pumps Laverne’s hand.
“I mean, I’m aware of your incredible career, your honor,” Amy says. “You’re an inspiration.”
“Thank you, that is very kind of you to say,” Laverne says. Jake notices that she doesn’t tell Amy to call her by her first name. He’s pleased and disappointed (though much more the former – look, they’re super competitive, it’s their thing).
“Thank you for saying that was a kind thing to say,” Amy says.
That’s when Jake intervenes, taking his beautiful, insane, super intense girlfriend by the arm and pulling her away.
“And thank all of us for fresh air, wide open spaces and Goldfish crackers,” Jake says. “Come on, I’m starving.”
+++
In the breakroom, Amy grabs the Goldfish bag out of Jake’s hand and establishes ground rules: one cracker for every detail about Holt and Holt’s mother.
“Does the detail have to be about both of them?” Jake says.
Amy glances up, thinks it over. “No. Either is acceptable. But it must be something you learned because you were hanging out with them. God, I can’t believe you got to hang out with Judge Holt. What does she smell like?”
“Old library books, Pledge, and a little bit like Christmas trees,” Jake says.
Amy hands him a cracker. “Pledge, like the wood cleaner?”
Jake nods and says, “For her gavel, I guess?”
“What does she call Holt?”
“Raymond,” Jake says, and grabs another cracker.
“Did you see any baby photos? Class pictures? Prom photos? Oh my god, were there any photos of him in a speedo?”
Jake stares. “That is a very weird thing to ask, and no. No speedo.”
“He was on the diving team!” Amy says.
“He was?”
“He told us about it during the morning briefing like two weeks ago, Jake.”
“I do not remember that,” Jake says.
“So, no photos?”
“Oh, there were photos,” Jake says. Amy leans over the table toward him, one hand buried in the Goldfish bag. “Tiny Holt. Tiny bowtie. Tiny slide rule.”
“Oh my god,” Amy says. She absently drops five crackers in front of him.
“And there was macaroni art,” Jake says. “An infographic about education spending in the Johnson era.”
He’s never been more grateful for his amazing ability to recall information that he doesn’t understand or care about than right now, when Amy bends half over the table and places both hands on his face and kisses him hard, lips smacking against his.
“Tiny Holt made macaroni PowerPoint,” Amy says, still so close he can feel her breath on his chin. “I love him.”
“It’s weird when you say that while your hands are on my cheeks,” Jake says.
“Oh, sorry,” Amy says, and backs away. Her own cheeks are flushed.
“It’s cool, just thought I should note it’s also weird,” Jake says, cheerily.
Amy rolls her eyes a little and then passes the entire Goldfish bag across the table. She rests her chin in one hand and says, “Tell me more.”
So Jake tells her everything: He describes the art on the walls of the living room and the “regular” room that was filled entirely with books. He admits he never got to see Holt’s childhood bedroom, but he got Holt to say “kowabunga, Mother,” which is almost better, they both agree.
He tells Amy about Holt’s disagreement with his mother over George Kenderson (“Henderson?” Amy says. “Kenderson,” Jake says. They both make faces.) and about their promises to be 5 percent more physically affectionate. Jake tells her that Laverne was sad after her husband died, and that she didn’t want Holt to know so she never talked about it, and he really appreciates it when Amy takes his hand and squeezes his fingers.
He tells her that Holt and his mom hugged in the end, even though he doesn’t know that for sure and they said they didn’t.
“But it felt like a hugging moment,” he says.
+++
Later that day, Jake texts Laverne and invites her to brunch. She says yes and requests that he bring Detective Santiago. Amy says it’s the best thing that’s happened to her all year, and Jake’s not even mad about it.