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The world doesn’t talk enough about friend breakups. How much it hurts when someone you cared about for a long time stomps all over your heart and throws away years of friendship. But Jake understands, he guesses, it must suck to have someone throw all your friends in prison. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. A cop and a criminal were never meant to work. He can’t deny that he’ll miss the Tom to his Jerry, the Doofenshmirtz to his Perry the Platypus. But cops always be copping, and he couldn’t help but cop a feel of the situation. Title of his sex tape.
He hikes the duffle bag higher on his shoulders and lazily fumbles with his keys to his apartment. Apparently, the curses of Doug and Trudy Judy had enough power to ensure that Jake did have an awful flight. They didn’t even have his favorite plane pretzel brand. His eyes feel heavier than usual thanks to the zero sleep he got, and the disappointment of possibly losing Doug Judy’s trust forever.
After unlocking the door, he pushes it open with his foot, the door letting out a strained creak. The duffle bag drops to the floor with a thunk as he kicks the door closed. Right now, he just wants to lay in his bed and sleep. No, take a shower and then sleep. No, brush his teeth, then take a shower, the-
“Oh. My. God.” Jake whips his head to the source of the noise to see his wife on the couch. She must have been waiting for him to return, a blanket is hanging off her shoulders and the TV is playing reruns of Jeopardy. But he frowns at the look on her face; mouth dropped open and her eyes full of mirth. He’s missing something for sure. “What are you wearing?”
Oh. One look down at himself confirms he’s still wearing the bachelor party outfit. The one that screams Miami and possibly not appropriate for him to wear in the first place. Amy raises her eyebrows in expectation and he can tell it’s taking everything in her not to completely lose her shit.
“Oh. It’s, uh, Doug Judy made me wear it for his party,” he says, pulling at the hem.
“In Miami?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.” She releases a choked laugh and covers her mouth with both her hands. Her voice is cracked and an octave higher since it’s laced in laughter. “You look like my Tio Jorge.”
“What? No! Not Tio Twink!”
“Stop calling him Tio Twink,” she says, finally letting out the cackle she’s been keeping in. Head thrown back and hands clutching her belly (in which he remembers that their child is in there). “Wait, wait don’t move. I gotta-”
She scrambles her hands on the couch and blanket until she pulls out her phone, fumbling to open the camera feature between giggles. Despite this being a very embarrassing moment, especially after the day he just had, he would do anything to continue seeing that delighted smile, her flushed cheeks, and hear those giggles. So when she points the phone in his direction, he just smiles and holds his hands out to display the outfit.
“I’m totally sending these to my brothers later,” she says. He’ll even endure teasing from her brothers too if it makes her happy.
“Oh wait! I just remembered!” he says and runs over to his duffle bag. He takes out the rumpled hat he shoved in there at the airport and smooths it out.
“Oh no, there’s a hat!” He places it on his head and she takes pictures of him in rapid fire.
“Yup, there’s a hat.” He strikes several poses, all ridiculous and way too big to be effective.
“Ay, que guapo,” she teases.
“I bet this is making you super horny right now, isn’t it babe.” She tosses her phone on the couch cushion next to her, stands up from her place on the couch, and walks over to where he stands. She places her hands on his chest and he feels like such a teenager for the way her touch almost takes his breath away. She unbuttons the top two buttons and opens it up so the skin of his chest is on display.
“There, now it’s making me super horny,” she says in a low voice and with suggesting eyes, but it disappears almost as quickly as it came. “You look like the Cuban husband my mom always wanted for me.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, your mom hates me,” he says, but there’s no real hurt in his words. Amy smacks his chest and leans up to give him a slow kiss.
“C’mon Andy Garcia, it’s ud o’clock.”
“You see, I knew I looked like Andy Garcia.”
“I was being generous.”
How can he spare even the slightest thought about Doug Judy when he’s got Amy Santiago pulling him by the belt loops towards their bedroom?