Work Text:
the nine stages of a pregnant Amy Santiago
The level of tiredness that Jake Peralta feels tonight seeps all the way through to his bones, his eyelids held open by imaginary toothpicks as he rocks back and forth, soothing his son back to sleep with the steady rhythm.
It was only four weeks ago that, in what seemed like a mili-second but in actuality had stretched on for hours, Amy had given birth to their son. And there have been many, many great moments in Jake’s life, but standing in a hospital room, gripping his wife’s hand as they both heard their son cry for the first time, will forever and always hold the top spot in his heart.
The transition to home life had been challenging, like all life with a newborn is, and when baby Leo had let out his trademark cry half an hour ago Amy had groaned from her position next to Jake, legs clearly feeling heavier than cement as she attempted to raise herself out of bed. But Jake had recognised this particular cry as the ‘my diaper is no longer clean and I demand a replacement’ cry, and had mumbled to his wife that it was his turn before stumbling towards the nursery like a half-awake zombie.
(Truthfully, as far as Jake was concerned; any late night call that didn’t involve the boob needed to be his turn. He and Amy, after all, were in this together - no matter what.)
Jake had changed the dirty diaper like the pro he’d become long before Amy had even given birth (turns out there were some advantages to having a Type A, over-preparing wife); and after lifting his son back into his arms and breathing in that incredibly addictive ‘new baby’ smell, he had started walking around the room, taking in all of the photographs and keepsakes that made it all so tastefully decorated.
Stopping by the changing table and picking up a framed photo of a selfie he and Amy had taken on their honeymoon, Jake twists to show the photograph to his son, pretending that even though his eyes are almost all the way closed, Leo can somehow still see what’s being held in front of him. “This is your mama, baby boy. She is literally the greatest person you’ll ever know, and you may not realise this just yet, but you have totally hit the jackpot by having her as your mother. Just like I did all those years ago, when she shook my hand for the very first time. I didn’t recognise the sparks until much later, but I’ve felt them every day since.”
From his warm and snuggly position within the crook of Jake’s arm, Leo lets out a tiny sniffle as fatigue begins to overtake his tiny body, and Jake’s heart squeezes at the sheer sweetness of the sight. Settling in to the upholstered rocking chair that had been a gift from Amy’s parents, Jake uses his socked feet as leverage against the hardwood floor, moving the chair to replicate the same rhythm as before while he watches his son fall asleep in his arms.
The world could take away all of the arrests he’s made, wipe out all of the cases he’s solved; and Jake wouldn’t care one bit. This bundle of perfection right here, is the greatest thing he’s ever done.
The Peralta curse didn’t stand a chance of survival in this home.
“You, me and Mommy, bubba. We make a dream team,” he whispers, glancing over at the baby monitor quickly to make sure his voice hasn’t woken his sleeping wife. He can hear the gentle snores that only come out when Amy is really tired (the same ones that she is ADAMANT don’t happen, ever), and smiles in silent victory before turning his attention back to his now sleeping son. The frame that Jake had just held in his hands is still resting along the edge of the table, and he takes in he and Amy’s happy, relaxed faces - a picture of total contentment after spending an entire day on a white sandy beach with absolutely no interruptions from their captain.
Despite everything that they’d been through together, Amy Santiago still manages to amaze him every day - and watching her transform her body for nine months, purely to create a safe growing space for their child, only made Jake fall in love with her all the more.
Especially because - much like her drinking scale - each month had brought about a new, different version of Amy. And though she may not be in the right frame of mind for Jake to tell her all about it just yet, he lets the memory of it all wash over him as his son sleeps happily in his arms.
Month One - Emotional Amy
It all begins on one seemingly innocent evening, as Jake walks back into the living room after calling his mother. From his path, he can see Amy’s shoulders are bouncing with the steady movements that he knows only belong to those all-consuming sobs that happen so rarely, but were truly the worst thing in the world for him to see.
With his phone landing on a spare pillow as he casts it aside, Jake makes his way towards his wife, enveloping her in his arms without a second thought as he presses gentle kisses against her hairline.
His shirt is soaked through to the shoulder within seconds, and after a long few minutes the shuddering begins to slow. Having spent the last few moments casing the scene in front of him, desperate to find the cause for such devastation (and frustratingly, coming up empty), Jake casts careful eyes towards Amy, raising his eyebrows in silent query.
Wiping her hand along the bottom of her nose, Amy rolls her eyes in mock amusement. “Ugh, I don’t even know where that came from.”
Jake’s eyes flit towards the TV screen, ignoring the advertisement for life insurance as he turns his attention back to Amy. “Honestly babe, I have no idea either.” He waits for a moment, listening as her breath begins to return to normal before continuing. “Wanna talk about it?”
She shrugs, mirroring Jake’s quick glance at the TV before shifting her position, resting her head against her husband’s chest instead. “It was nothing, really. Just some dumb ad.”
Ahh. Nodding, Jake wraps one arm around Amy’s waist, letting his fingers splay out along her side. “Was it the bank one again?”
Amy shakes her head, burrows in a little further.
“The broken coffee machine that reunites the long-lost friends?”
Another shake.
“Ohhh, it’s gotta be the detergent one then, right?!”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Amy looks up at Jake, resting her chin against his chest. “It wasn’t any of them. I can’t even … you’ll just have to wait and see it, babe.” Her head drops down again, one hand reaching underneath to grip Jake a little tighter from her position. “Just stick around, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Ames.”
It only takes one and a half more ad breaks before the offender returns, in all it’s tear-jerking glory: the Chevrolet Equinox - packed in with an all time high towing capacity.
Jake feels the deep breath run through Amy’s chest as the thick wheels sling mud across the screen, a supposedly tough voice muttering it’s way through specifications that Jake truly has never really understood as his attention turns towards his wife, all the tell-tale signs of a imminent crying session flashing bright and loud. In confusion, he blinks back towards the screen, making sure that he is, in fact, still watching an overpriced advertisement … for a CAR … before turning back to Amy, his arms instinctively wrapping around her as the tears begin to fall.
“I mean, they must have just worked so hard on that car … and look at it, it’s so … so … strong!” Sighing, Amy rests her head against Jake’s shoulder, nestling in for the long haul. “An all-time high. Their parents must be SO proud.”
Nodding, Jake runs his hands back up and down Amy’s back, temporarily unable to speak as the price of the car flashes up on the screen before merging into an ad for Cheerios. Briefly, he remembers to add cereal to the shopping list, then glances down at his desolate wife.
They’ve been together for so long by now that the notion of Amy crying at a commercial was not a new one - but an ad that doesn’t even have a tugging at the heartstrings kind of moment? Rather, was chockfull of unnecessary testosterone and way-too-shiny-to-be-realistic vehicles? That was entirely new territory.
Her eyes are relatively dry by now, and she’s humming along to an ad for jelly, but Jake still doesn’t understand what just happened. Cars aren’t designed to break people’s hearts (and okay, maybe coffee machines and detergents weren’t supposed to either, but you can see the angle they’re going for). And then, with a glance to the right, he picks up on the packet of hormone tablets still resting on the kitchen bench after Amy had taken one right before dinner.
Smooth solve, Detective. Amy had mentioned there may be side effects, and really Jake had just nodded when she’d said it, because honestly after the plethora of pellets that the two of them had digested during all those months of trying, side effects no longer seemed to concern him.
Perhaps, these reactions were going to be slightly more noticeable than the others. (Although, just quietly, he does miss how soft his hair felt during those months. If only he could figure out which of the 389 different tablets had been the cause.)
Amy looks up at Jake with a grin as the opening credits to Property Brothers begin, and without hesitation he leans down to place a quick kiss against her lips. She was making her body jump through so many hoops; all in the hopes of being able to start a family with him, and there really won’t ever be a way for Jake to describe just how thankful he is that somebody like Amy Santiago could fall in love with him. He’d do whatever he could to make her happy, and consoling her through a few extra tears seems like the least of the world’s problems.
She sighs against his lips, pushing up slightly for another kiss and smiling, resting her head against Jake’s chest entirely as the episode begins. It’s turning into a night just like all the others, and he could have a thousand more and still never get enough.
And so with the coming weeks, Amy cries. When Jake notices they’re nearly out of butter, and buys two extra from the store because they’re on sale. When he pulls an extra blanket over to the couch, before she’s even sat down. She cries when one of her newer officers hands in an arrest report, and it’s so neat and so thorough that she’s able to approve and pass it on to Holt without any need for corrections; and cries when the local fruit shop has avocados on sale.
There are times when Jake wonders if maybe they should speak to their doctor, but then he reasons that if Amy isn’t concerned, then he shouldn’t be. And a few weeks later, when she holds up a positive test and beams at him like the brightest sunshine in all the world, things finally begin to make a little more sense.
Month Two - Always Hot Amy
There is absolutely no secret to the fact that Jake considers Amy to be the single most hottest woman he’s ever met. Holding the ability to turn him on with a simple flick of a button, Jake has long since been an admirer (and frequent worshipper) at the Altar of Amy.
But five weeks in to what they eventually discover to be her pregnancy, Amy’s hotness level have skyrocketed to a record-breaking high - literally becoming the Hottest Woman in the World: Ultra Sweaty Edition.
“Uhh … babe?” Jake begins hesitantly.
“Yeah?”
“So I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because I am absolutely a fan of what you are wearing, but … how are you not freezing right now??”
Amy looks over at Jake, furrowing her brow as she glances down at her current outfit of just her underwear and Jake’s favourite blue hoodie. Shrugging, she looks over at her husband, seemingly noticing for the first time that he’s covered head to toe in socks, jeans, sweater and a beanie. “Wait. Are you cold, babe?”
Chuckling, Jake reaches out a hand towards Amy as she walks towards him, taking in the slight sheen of her perspiring skin and tucking it away for future reference (honestly, it’s a testament to her power, that even covered in sweat Jake still finds Amy beyond attractive). “I mean, you’ve cranked the air-conditioning into Antarctica Mode, so … yeah, a little.”
Her fingers slide against his skin, toying with his wedding band before dipping beneath the sweater to touch his back, and oh she’s warm, so very warm. He sighs, and she smiles, and there really can’t ever be a doubt that Amy Santiago is just … everything.
Pushing herself onto her tippy toes, Amy juts her chin forward in a silent request for a kiss, and it’s a demand that Jake is only too happy to oblige. “I’m sorry babe,” she mumbles against his lips, impossibly warm hands scaling slowly up to the centre of his spine. “We can turn it back up. I’m pretty sure I’ve still got some sponges in the cupboard somewhere from last time. Those things were surprisingly absorbent.”
Shaking his head, Jake wraps his hands around Amy’s waist, smiling as she jumps from the cool touch of his still kind-of-freezing hands. “No way, Ames. There’s a teeny tiny version of the two of us growing in there, and we need to make sure they stay nice and warm.”
Her teeth bite into her lower lip slightly, bridling the same excitement that washes over her face whenever Jake mentions the fact that they were most definitely having a baby. It’s the same giddiness that bubbles up inside his stomach at the thought, and there are days when the anticipation of it all is just too much.
Amy’s palms flatten against his back, and she presses herself against him in a move that they both know is going to end well. “I guess that just means that I’m going to have to find ways to warm you up then, detective."
In a few weeks time, when she’s finished compiling the First Trimester Pregnancy Binder and researching the heck out of the remaining two, Amy will come to understand that it’s an elevation of her hormone levels and an increase in her metabolism that had brought on the sudden need to perspire with every passing minute. She still steals her husband’s hoodies - because within the four walls of their apartment, all of Jake’s jackets belong to Amy - and on her days off he will often come home and find her wrapped up in that and little else. It may or may not become his favourite sight to come home to (soon to be taken over by the sight of her cuddling their son, and then playing with their toddler while she struggles with the growing bump of baby number two … the list goes on, but you get what he means).
In the meantime, Jake perseveres by jumping at any chance to duck down to their local bodega - if for no other reason than to thaw out for a minute - and slowly Amy’s body learns to adjust to the changes without perspiration.
And then, the morning sickness comes.
Month Three - Life Kinda Sucks RN Amy
Month Three almost hits them like clockwork, waking Amy up early one morning with the overwhelming need to vomit and giving her mere seconds to react before it will be too late.
By day six, they’ve got the routine down pat: Amy makes a run for it as soon as the nausea hits, and Jake heads into the kitchen for a cool glass of water; resting it on the counter next to the sink before settling in beside Amy to rub her back in the way he knows she loves. Her toothbrush is forever at the ready, and on their days off Jake will run a bath while she brushes, using the camomile scented bath bombs that his wife has always loved until one day the scent begins to turn her stomach all over again.
Each day from then on becomes a process of discovery, each playing the game of Whats Going To Make Amy Throw Up Today, in which neither of them are ever really winners.
It takes them several trials, but eventually they figure out a safe routine for their drive to work each morning - Amy in the passenger seat with the window cracked open at exactly 23%, the radio set on low volume to her favourite NPR station and her hand resting against Jake’s leg as he drives 7 miles below the limit. Her hand squeezes his knee every time he shifts to hit the brake, and he grips it right back once the car is parked and they slowly walk into the precinct.
She keeps up appearances, refusing to be considered as anything less than an asset to the workplace, but in both her and Jake’s desk drawers there are an endless supply of Saltine crackers - one of the few things that her morning-sickness-ravaged stomach seems to be able to keep down. She learns to avoid the area surrounding Boyle’s desk at all costs, and to take the stairs whenever possible because the dipping motion of the elevator coming to a stop makes her stomach feel as though it is literally turning inside out.
Her body is starting to give away the signs of a life growing inside her, and so Amy starts carrying boxes everywhere and choosing larger-than-necessary outfits, all in an attempt to conceal what must be so obvious to the rest of the office. And even though the urge to burst out the good news every single time they walk into the bullpen, the fear of something going wrong is just too strong, and so they wait.
(And pretend it’s totally normal for Amy to be running to the ladies room multiple times for the first three hours of every day. Or for Jake to check up on his wife at increasingly regular intervals.)
(Okay, maybe the second one is actually completely normal.)
Within the secured familiarity of their home, Amy falls apart every afternoon, pointing out just how tired and frumpy and over it she is, knowing that she can complain to Jake without ever feeling judged. She loves being pregnant - and genuinely cannot wait to meet their little one - but right now, with the constant dizziness and the need to pee every other damn minute, it’s hard to feel anything but BLAH.
And every afternoon without fail, Jake takes Amy into his arms, absorbing all of her frustrations and giving her nothing but support in return. Sometimes they go for walks around the neighbourhood - sharing secret glances of elation every time they pass another couple with a baby in a stroller - and sometimes, he sets up the living room with a pile of blankets and a list of documentaries, all of which Amy has been dying to see (and maybe there will be a sneaky action movie thrown in, just to spice things up).
He holds her through the night when she needs it, and in the morning he’s by her side once again, holding back the hair that escaped her messy ponytail. They were in this together, and though temporary, moments like these never seem so terrible when you share them with the one you love.
Even when the one you love suddenly has unquenchable cravings for sour gummies mixed into yoghurt with granola on top. Or - and this is the truly strange one - for VEGETABLES.
Month Four - Life is AMAZING Amy
Jake’s fingers toy with the peeling edges of the sticker on his bottle of Heisler, laughing at Gina’s anecdotes as she finishes up a story about spending an afternoon with one of her fans. The squad had gathered at Shaw’s tonight to celebrate Terry’s birthday, and it was turning out to be a pretty great night - if for no other reason than how glowing Amy looks as she chats with Boyle a few metres away.
By the grace of all that is good, the morning sickness seems to have finally held itself at bay, and if the adorable little shimmy that his wife made when she slipped into her new floral dress earlier tonight is anything to go by, Amy was finally starting to feel a lot more human.
Lifting the bottle up to take a quick sip, Jake savours the taste as it lingers on his tongue. He hadn’t done much drinking in the last few months (because if Amy can’t drink, then he can’t drink, hashtag SOLIDARITY), but Amy had encouraged him tonight, buying the first round as she reminded him that the more you drink, the more I can kiss off your lips later - and honestly, Jake’s never taken a draft as quickly as he did at when she handed him a bottle. Truth be told, he didn’t intend on drinking a lot - he and Amy had an ultrasound appointment booked for mid tomorrow morning, and the anticipation of getting another glimpse of their baby was far more appealing than any drunken adventure could ever be.
His attention turns back to Amy - because in all honesty its never too far away from being on her anyway - and when she laughs at something Charles says he cannot help but replicate her grin with his own.
The redhead across from Jake clears her throat loudly, far too pointed for it to be anything but a deliberate protest, and he grins sheepishly. “Sorry, G.”
With a roll of her eyes, Gina tips her almost empty glass towards Amy. “Don’t get me wrong, boo. It’s great that you’re having a mini pantsuit-wearing baby with your wife, but you two are still so loved up it’s almost sickening.”
The sheepish grin turns smug, but he doesn’t care. He and Amy are all loved up, and it’s ridiculous and stupid but also the happiest he’s been. They’re creating a family, of their very own, and life is awesome. He looks back over at Amy, catching her eye this time, and she grins when he winks. The nights have gotten cooler, and he’s discovered that the feeling of falling asleep with a (sometimes naked!) Amy snuggled into him, the bump of their tiny but growing baby pressing up against his back, is truly the greatest thing. Even more so, when he relinquishes the Little Spoon role and wraps Amy up into his arms, leaving his palm flat against her stomach so that he can hug their future child just as much.
(Seriously, if anybody had ever thought to tell him how great it is to be the Big Spoon in that situation, he would have put his hand up on Day One.)
Gina clears her throat again, and Jake shrugs. “I know. It’s a little much. But … this right here is proof that not all Peralta’s are lost causes, Gina. And you’re wrong about the pantsuit wearing, by the way. Our baby is clearly going to be a mini McClane slash Harry Potter … or Hermione, depending on how things go.” He drains the bottle, letting it hit the table with a heavy thud. “Point is, baby Peralta-Santiago could be a nerd or a badass or both, and it will still be super-mega-loved.”
His friend is in the middle of replying, “Plus, Iggy will always be an option for cool lessons” when Jake notices that Amy is now within hearing range, and walking towards him with a giant smile on her face. Shuffling over slightly to give her a space to sit, Jake lifts his head slightly to receive Amy’s welcoming kiss as she leans across the table.
“You’re totally right, babe. Our baby is going to be a nerdy badass. And I think that’s awesome.” Her warm eyes slide over to Linetti. “Hey, Gina. Saw you sitting here with my handsome husband and thought I’d come say hi.”
Gina nods, and Amy looks over at Jake, biting her lower lip softly, holding back an even wider smile. “And, to tell this guy that I love him.” Reaching out, she ruffles his hair, and Jake can feel the blush rising in his cheeks.
“Amy’s body seems to be producing a lot of ‘affirmation stylez’ hormones lately,” he explains in way of apology, and Gina nods warily.
“It sure is! And it’s amazing. My skin is all glowy, I’m not vomiting every hour, AND I’m having a baby with the love of my life. What’s not to be happy about?!”
“Ugh.” Turning her attention towards Boyle as he passes by, Gina shouts out - “Charles! Whiskey!” Before swivelling back to the couple. “Sorry. But you guys are just … I have to be drunk to deal with you.”
Amy chuckles, leaning forward so that she can rest her elbows on the surprisingly un-sticky table. “Whatever, Gina. You can act all tough and put on that snarky exterior all you like, but you forget that I know you. You love me. And guess what? I love you as well.” The chuckle turns into laughter as the redhead’s face morphs into one of horror, reaching out to rest her hand on the table between them. “I do. You’ve been there for Jake so many times there’s no way either of you could count it all. Through thick and thin, you created a safe space for this amazing person to turn into the man he is today, and I thank you, Gina. Truly. Life can be crazy, but it can also be so magical, and I love you.”
Amy leans back, resting against Jake’s right side as he throws his arms around her shoulders. “And you know you love me, too. It’s okay if you don’t want to say it. I’ve got enough serotonin running through my body right now to say it for both of us. I love you, you love me, and we both love this guy right here.”
The roll of Gina’s eyes is small, but goes unnoticed as a gentle blush washes over her cheeks. She clears her throat in an effort to break through the emotionally charged moment, muttering “Okay, let’s not go turning ourselves into purple dinosaurs or anything,” as she squirms in her seat. Amy grins at her obvious discomfort, too high on the excitement of finding out the sex of her baby soon to be concerned with anything else.
“Gina! My former lover and former sister. I have an important task, and you’re the only one I can trust with it.” Charles interrupts, placing a new glass of whiskey on the table as he stands next to the booth. “Come, help me get my picture taken.”
Straightening her back Gina scans the interior of the bar, eyebrows knitting when she doesn’t recognise any faces. “Why, is there someone famous here? Is it Beyoncé? Charles, are you telling me Beyoncé is here?”
Cocking his head to the side, Charles mirrors Gina’s confused expression. “Huh? No, I need a photo taken with Baby Peraltiago in utero! I’ve only gotten ten so far, and it’s not nearly enough for my slideshow!”
Staring for a beat, Gina quickly lifts her glass and downs the entire contents in one gulp. “Ok that’s me out guys. Remember to do your daily Gina-mandments for a rich and fulfilling life. Peace out, G-Hive.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Charles flops into the seat that Gina vacated, and in his misery doesn’t notice Amy leaving a quick kiss below Jake’s ear before leaning in to whisper something. She pulls away, locking eyes for a solid minute, and Jake clears his throat before standing. “Yeah, we’re out too, bud. Baby growing and all that. Night!”
Bewildered, Charles glances around the empty booth. “Was it something I said?”
Month Five - Horny Amy
Jake’s favourite of all months, by far. And also, the most exhausting.
But he’s a gentleman, and he’s definitely not going to go into the details.
Yeah. Most definitely his favourite.
Month Six - Señora Santiago
It had been a long day at work, and Jake was beyond tired by the time he finally walked through the door. Despite her ever-growing case of FOMOW, Amy’s shifts had been reduced slightly to allow time for her to rest, and the days moved infinitely slower without her calming presence.
Jake notices her as soon as he walks through the door, spread out on the couch with her feet propped up on a pillow, and he throws her a smile as he slides his jacket off and hangs it on the rack. “Hey, babe. How are you feeling?”
There’s a soft grunt in reply, followed by a mumbled “Un poco cansada .… pero bien.”
Kicking off his shoes near the doorway, Jake’s socked feet pad across the living floor as he makes his way over to his wife. He leans down for a gentle kiss against her forehead, running his thumb along her hairline while she looks up at him with those eyes that he never fails to get lost in (the same eyes that he kinda hopes that his son will grow up with). “Ah, lo siento” is his automatic reply, moving his hand to run along her arm soothingly.
She grabs it before he has a chance to pull away, finely cut fingernails digging into his skin through the fabric as Amy tugs him back towards her. “What was that you just said?”
Jake blinks. “… Lo siento? Oh man, did I say it wrong?”
“No! You said it exactly right. I just … when did you just start speaking Spanish?!”
“Oh, that.”
“YES, oh that!”
His grin is sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck self-consciously before lifting Amy’s feet, settling onto the couch and returning them to his lap. As his hands begin to rub, he shrugs - “I .. kinda started taking lessons about a year ago, and then life got a little crazy and I forgot to stick with it. After we fell pregnant, it kinda felt like the right thing for me to start learning again.”
Her toes wriggle against his fingers, and Jake breaks his focus, looking up at Amy. “You never told me you started learning before,” she mumbles, a thoughtful look on her face, and Jake finds himself shrugging again.
“I guess … I just wanted to understand what you and your family were talking about whenever you’re all together. It can get a little intense, listening to the words flying about and having literally no idea what the topic is.” Running his thumbs in deep circles across the arch of Amy’s foot, Jake grins as she lets out a sigh. “Plus, I really wanted your parents to think I was good enough for you.”
Amy’s legs tense above Jake’s lap as she pulls them away, and she reaches out a hand for assistance as she attempts to sit up (a simple movement that, with her growing baby bump, was becoming not so simple). She keeps a grip of Jake’s hand, resting his palm against her belly as she reaches up with the other to cup his face. Under his touch, Jake begins to feel the gentle kick as his son moves about freely.
“You feel that, babe?” Amy’s voice is soft, and gentle in its tone, but all Jake can do in reply is a simple nod.
“That right there, is your son, and he loves you so. much. already, it’s ridiculous. He practically does somersaults in my womb every time you enter the room. He adores you, just like I adore you, and you don’t ever need to worry about not being good enough for either of us.”
A lump begins to form in Jake’s throat, memories of conversations with his father about the Peralta Curse still swimming about in his mind. If there was anything that was becoming abundantly clear, it was that no curse could possibly hold strong against the heart of Amy Santiago. HIs voice might be cracking a little when he speaks next, but he honestly doesn’t care. “I love you so much.”
She responds with a kiss, one hand holding him tight to her belly as the other strokes his cheek, and oh, esto es amor.
In the passing weeks, Amy takes to speaking Spanish on a more frequent basis - very aware that their baby boy is able to hear things now, if the multitude of pregnancy books that are stacked up on her and Jake’s besides tables are anything to go by. It’s unmistakeable, the pride that Jake feels whenever he picks up on what his wife is saying; or even plucks up the courage to respond in this once foreign language, and he never thought he’d say this but he genuinely cannot wait until they meet up with Amy’s parents again. They never could have seen this coming.
And then Jake comes home late one night, and finds Amy nestled into the rocking chair that had been a hand-me-down from her brother Matthew, singing to their son so soft, so sweetly that his hearts just about beats right out of his chest.
He walks into the room just as Amy begins the next verse, “Me haces feliz cuando los cielos están gris …” and when she notices him in the room, switches languages with the skill of someone who has been doing it their whole life (and just how one day, someday, their son will). Her voice is softer now, and the look in her eyes pulls Jake in with a single blink. “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you …”
The rest of the song falls away, as he leans in for a kiss - a soft kiss, full of love and hope and promises and wonder. This child of theirs was already so lucky, already so loved.
These next three months are going to be the longest of his life.
Month Seven - Worried Amy
The moment the elevator doors slide open and the bullpen comes into focus, Jake’s eyes scan the room with only one target in mind. It takes him less than three seconds to find her, sitting at his desk in such a familiar way that his heart pangs a little for all the times she sat there and didn’t refer to him as the love of her life.
He can see Amy’s chest rise and fall as she releases the breath she was obviously holding, her relief undeniable as her eyes lock onto his, holding steady as he walks towards her with a careful step.
Today had been just your standard work day, with he and Rosa heading out to Bushwick to follow a lead that had (thankfully) proven to be very successful. And while texts between Jake and Amy had always been a pretty regular occurrence - ramped up, naturally, once they started dating - there had been a steady vibration coming from his jean pocket for the last two hours, and instinctively he knew that there was way more to this than just his wife killing time while on desk duty.
Shooting a glance at Rosa, Jake waits for the detective to nod before making a beeline for his desk. He could tell, now that he was closer, that Amy was showing all the classic signs of Distracted Amy - jiggling knees, chewing on the lower right corner of her lip, and the persistent twirl of her wedding band, round and round. He grabs her wrist gently when he’s close enough, stopping the movement and using his thumb to stroke her soft skin soothingly. “Lock-up?”
Amy nods quickly, her jaw unclenching slightly as she swallows whatever thought she was about to vocalise. She doesn’t even wait the usual thirty-four seconds for Jake to leave before she’s following him into the evidence lock-up, far too distracted by whatever’s on her mind to care about the rest of the bullpen noticing that they’ve walked off together.
“You okay?” Jake asks carefully, wrapping one arm around her shoulders once the lock to the room has been secured, breathing in the familiar coconut scent of Amy’s hair as she falls into his embrace. There’s a nod, felt up against his chest, and then she’s tucking her head down into the juncture of his neck and tightening her grip around his waist tenfold.
“I am now. Just .. can’t turn it off.” Her voice is muffled, but warm against his skin.
“Turn what off, babe?”
There’s a pause, and a heavy sigh. “My mind.”
Jake begins to move his hand slowly up and down Amy’s back, waiting for his wife to continue before speaking. He’s never found a reason to turn off her mind - Amy’s mind is one of his favourite things about her.
After another minute or two, she lifts her head slightly, resting her chin against his chest. “There was a shoot-out in Williamsburg today.”
“Oh yeah?”
Amy nods. “Yeah. And even though I knew you were in Bushwick, and that you were one hundred percent not on the scene, I couldn’t stop feeling terrified that maybe, somehow, you had ended up there.”
“I’m sorry if I didn’t answer your texts right away, babe.”
She shakes her head. “No, you were working a case, I get it. But even after you replied, I started worrying about what would have happened if you had been there, if something had happened to you, and I just …” tucking herself back into Jake’s neck, Amy lets out a choked sob. “Are we crazy, Jake? Is it absolutely insane that we’re bringing a new life into this world that is going to be entirely dependent on us, when there’s always a very good chance that one of us doesn’t come home?”
“Ames, hey … shhh, babe. It’s fine. I’m fine, we’re fine. You don’t need to worry.” Jake can feel the tears threaten to sting his eyes, once again cursing his mother for passing down a tendency for sympathetic crying. “And yeah, maybe we’re a little crazy, but - ”
“And then I was reading a news article about this shark attack in Manhattan, and I started freaking out because … what if we take our son to Coney Island and something like that happens? Or we get into a car accident or something?”
“I mean … do we even know if there are sharks in the water here?”
She sniffs loudly, raising her head to meet Jake’s stare. “26. There are 26 different species in New York waters.”
“Okay, I love that you know that.”
Amy shrugs sheepishly. “I might have looked it up. Which didn’t help at all, really. So then I started worrying about my maternity leave, and if we can really afford for me to be away for so long, and look I know this probably sounds really paranoid but I swear this baby isn’t moving nearly as much as he normally does, and it’s all just kinda freaking me out, Jake!”
“Ames, Ames, Ames … come here, babe. You’ve gotta calm down a little bit, okay?” Amy’s arms don’t wrap around him this time, choosing instead to stay tucked up as she grabs onto the chain that his badge hangs from, holding it close to her own chest. The tears start flowing now, pooling against his work shirt, and Jake’s heart breaks a little at the sight of it. He can feel the fear and worry radiating from every pore on his wife’s body, and it’s worse than he could have possibly imagined.
Slowly, the crying converts to the occasional hiccup, and Jake runs one hand through Amy’s hair, careful to keep the work-appropriate ponytail looking neat and professional. “We’re going to be fine, Ames. And as for the whole shark thing, I’ll have you know that you are looking at someone who very recently did some detective work into a very similar subject.”
Amy wipes her hand under her nose, looking up in confusion. “You did?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Clearing his throat, Jake maintains his gentle grip around Amy’s waist and continues. “I’ll have you know, Ames, that you are more likely to get killed by a cow than a shark. And I don’t know about you, but I have not seen any cows at the beach lately. So we can totally go take our mini-McClane to the beach on weekends.”
“We’re not naming our son after a movie, Jake.”
“No comeback for the cow thing, I see. How’s about another amazing factoid? There are literally more ways to shuffle a deck of cards, then there are atoms on the earth.” Jake pauses, miming an explosion on top of his head before returning his hands to her waist, clearly proud of the facts he’s just recited.
Amy narrows her eyes, cocking her head to one side. “You’ve been reading Buzzfeed articles again, haven’t you?”
“Whaaaaat? No, I’m just really really into cows and atoms, and - okay yes, I might have clicked on a link or two the other day.” He winces. “But .. it was turns out it was all in the aid of helping you calm your nerves! We’re two of the best cops the NYPD has ever seen, Ames. And we’ve had to put up with some pretty crappy circumstances throughout the years. Nothing is going to get to us.”
“But what if …”
Jake shakes his head. “There is a whole shelf of parenthood related books taking pride of place in our reading room, and at least 10 binders that I can think of that are choc-filled to the brim with all of the information anybody could possibly want to know about babies. We are more than prepared, babe. Whatever else comes, we’ll figure it out. We’re a team, and more importantly, we’re a family. And nothing’s going to change that.”
Amy’s eyes grow soft, and she rests her hands on his chest. Briefly, a flashback to a lot of change around here, huh? runs through Jake’s mind, and he smiles at the realisation of just how far they’ve come. His wife’s voice is still heavy with trepidation, but there’s a little less fear in her gaze, and he’s counting that as a win. “You really think so, Jake?”
Unable to resist, Jake leans his head down slightly for a soft kiss, pressing his lips against Amy’s and trying with all his might to chase her worries away. “I do. And as for you, young man -” he begins, sliding his hands from Amy’s waist to rest on either side of her belly. “How about you calm your Mama’s mind and do a little twist, or a kick or something?”
It takes another minute or two, and Jake is just about to ramp up the scalding when he hears Amy’s sharp intake of breath, and only a second later he feels the gentle push of his son’s body against his hand. “That’s more like it,” Amy breathes, busting out a smile that could light up the room.
“Much better,” Jake agrees, crooking his finger underneath Amy’s chin and pulling her forward for another kiss. “We’re going to do this together, babe. You and me. And don’t forget, we’ve got the whole 99 on standby if we ever need assistance. I don’t even need to tell you how quickly Charles would jump into action if we asked.”
Amy grimaces, face brightening as she begins to laugh at the image. “You’re absolutely right. I love you, Jake Peralta.”
“I love you, Amy Santiago.” Dipping his head lower, Jake runs his right hand in a gentle circle against Amy’s belly. “And I love you as well, little Shrek.”
Amy’s body bounces with laughter, and she tugs Jake down for a soft thank you kiss. “You always know the right thing to say, babe. Thank you."
“It’s both a blessing and a curse. Besides, I think we’re both forgetting the most important detail here.”
“What’s that?”
“We both have Rosa’s number on speed dial. Honestly, I pity whatever we put her up against.”
“Oh, absolutely. Agreed.”
Month Eight - Nesting Amy
It’s the overwhelming smell of Pledge, whacking Jake in the face as he opens their front door, that tells him that once again Amy has not had a relaxing day at home.
There was less than five weeks until their baby’s due date, and at the insistence of both Jake and Holt himself, Amy had been placed on maternity leave, with strict instructions to return only when she has a super-cute adorable baby to show off.
So far, however, Amy has taken her doctor’s directive of ‘bed rest and preparation for your baby’s arrival’, and twisted it into ‘obsessively clean every square inch of your apartment’.
She’s waddling down the hallway of their apartment, arms full of freshly dried laundry, when she notices Jake is finally home. “Hey babe! How was work?”
Leaning over the pile of socks and shirts, Jake plants a chaste kiss against Amy’s lips. There were a million ways to describe work without Amy in the building (boring, long and kinda lonely spring to mind), but right now he’s a little too distracted to give her a more concise answer. “Ah, it was work.”
“Okay?”
Following her through to the kitchen, Jake takes the laundry from Amy’s hands and dumps them on the dining table, sorting the various items into piles just the way she likes. “So,” he begins casually, “how many cans of Pledge did you go through today?”
Amy’s hands freeze mid-air, fingers still stretched out towards a wayward sock, and she glances at Jake out of the corner of her eye. “Ah, just the one.”
“And the rest of the day you totally just relaxed on the couch and caught up with all those shows we never get time to watch, right?”
“Yep. Sure did.”
Jake nods, taking a quick look at their open plan apartment. “Geez, the windows look awfully sparkly today.”
Unable to contain her glee, Amy grins. “I know! I found this amazing glass cleaner that I thought I had run out of. Those are the cleanest windows in New York City, babe. You could practically eat off of them.”
“I’m definitely impressed, Ames. Especially that you did it from your resting position on the couch. Seriously, kudos to you.”
“Ugh. Okay, fine! You busted me. But I can’t help it, babe! Every time I sit down, I see another little speck of dust or I remember just how long it’s been since I’ve cleaned the air-conditioning vents and suddenly three hours have passed by.” Wringing her hands together slightly, she shrugs. “Also, I may have bumped into that lamp we had in the corner and broken it. Or rather, the bump bumped into it. I swear, just when I think I’ve gotten used to how big I’m getting, I grow another inch or seven.”
Jake laughs, placing the last neatly folded shirt onto the pile of all the others. “Hey, that’s my sexy as hell, domestic goddess wife you’re talking about there."
She grunts, dropping her head down to look at her swollen stomach before looking back up at Jake. “I don’t feel sexy. I feel like a rotisserie chicken.”
“Okay, I’m really going to need you to distract me right now, so that I don’t make a terrible joke about juicy breasts.”
“Jake.”
“Got it. You do not look like a rotisserie chicken, Ames. You look like a beautiful woman, who is eight months pregnant and has spent her entire day cleaning an apartment that was already ridiculously clean.”
“I may have also moved some furniture around,” Amy mumbles, interjecting quickly with a “Light furniture! Just chairs and stuff. Nothing big - well, you’ll see” as she notices the exasperated look on Jake’s face. Oh, how he loves her.
“Ames, obviously I can’t stop you, and there’s no way I’m going to tell you what to do. I just think right now would be the best time to follow your doctor’s orders and rest. In a few weeks time, we’re both going to be rueing the day we had the chance to sleep and didn’t take it.”
Amy nods, coyly raising her eyebrows. “I’ll do you a deal, Peralta. I’ll spend the rest of the evening on the couch, so long as you’ll be my cuddle buddy.”
Grinning, Jake leans into Amy, pressing a miniature kiss against the tip of her nose. “I’ll do you one better, babe. I’ll stay with you on the couch all night tonight and tomorrow night; AND during the day you can put me on cleaning duty for anything that catches your eye, no matter how small.” He winks, continuing. “If you’re lucky, I might even be able to rustle up a French Maid outfit for added effect.”
Amy’s hands come to rest on either side of his face, her touch so amazingly warm that it still makes his heart skip all these years later. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Month Nine - Surprisingly good at French Amy
“PUTAIN!” Amy cries out, reaching out to grab the edge of Jake’s scrubs as she pulls him closer. “Ça fait tellement mal!”
Wincing, Jake listens to the anguished cries of his wife, reaching one hand towards his collar and gripping her hand in his. With the other, he fumbles for his phone, trying in vain to open the DuoLingo app and figure out just what exactly his wife was saying. Judging from the tone, it wasn’t great - and she had mentioned once or twice that she’d minored in French in college - but he’d never heard such a regular string of completely incomprehensible words fall out of Amy’s mouth.
A clammy hand grips the back of Jake’s neck, and its Amy pulling him forwards, yanking him until their foreheads are touching. “Jake. I can’t do this. I can’t. It hurts too much.”
None of this night was going to plan.
There are laminated copies of Amy’s birthing plan in every possible place - from their house to their car, the top drawers of both her and Jake’s desk, and even a copy with Captain Holt and Lieutenant Jeffords, just in case something should happen to go awry. It was very clear cut in its instructions - single spaced, double sided, Santiago style - and had left no doubt in anyone close to them’s minds exactly what was expected to occur once Amy’s water finally broke.
What all the research and binders and testimonies hadn’t anticipated, and therefore turns out to be exactly what ends up happening, is a city-wide blackout with both Amy and Jake stuck in traffic after pursuing a lead on the other side of town, with absolutely no way out.
It had taken fourteen different phone conversations, the call in on several different favours and one tiny sacrifice to the gods before he and Amy had made it to their hospital, and by the time the nurses wheeled her into the delivery room, it was far too late for Amy to be considered for an epidural. Jake’s heart had broken for her, as she was told the news and an undeniable look of terror ran over her features. Absolutely nothing was going to plan - and while Amy’s water had indeed broken on her due date (Santiago’s are nothing if not punctual, after all) - Jake couldn’t help but feel that everything that had happened since that moment had more to do with the Peralta genes than his wife’s.
But there was a snowball’s chance in hell that Jake was going to let Amy believe she couldn’t do this. She absolutely could. She could do anything. And so he rests his weight against the side of the bed; flitting his eyes over to the clock on the table and calculating that they were probably only another twenty seconds away from another contraction, and crooks his finger into the edge of Amy’s chin, bumping her up slightly to meet his gaze. “Yes you can, Ames. You’re the strongest person I know, and you can do this. I know you can. And I’m going to be right here with you, the whole time.”
Closing her eyes as the wave of another contraction hits, Amy whispers “Merde” before gripping onto Jake’s hand for dear life, fingernails leaving tiny blood-filled crescent moons in his skin when she finally pulls away.
The hands on the clock on the wall have moved significantly by the time Leo Peralta makes his debut, the unmistakeable sound of his cries bouncing off the hospital ward’s walls as he shouts his protest in the sudden change of environment.
Jake’s left hand is completely numb - he’s pretty sure Amy has squeezed all life out of it - but he is filled with total elation and a total adoration for the true warrior that is Amy. He never could have done half of the things she did today, but even now after all of the pain she went through, there is an unbreakable smile on her face as she holds their son in her arms for the very first time.
(He’s also learned four brand new curse words, all of which he never would have expected to come out his gentle natured wife’s mouth, but he also hasn’t just pushed a human being out of his body, so really - who is he to judge?)
Jake rests on the bed next to Amy, leaning over slightly to run a finger along the edge of his son’s mouth in wonder. It is incredible, really - how much he could love somebody so instantly, and so unconditionally. “You did it, Ames. You brought our son into the world.”
Amy smiles, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny bundle in her arms just yet. “We did it, babe. There’s no way I would have been able to do this without you.”
He presses a kiss to the top of her head in response, and whispers I love you. A moment later, Amy is passing him their son to hold, and it doesn’t seem right how somebody that holds so much weight in Jake’s life could feel so light right now.
“Hey there, little man. Welcome to the family, pal.” He hears a sniff to his left, and turns to see Amy brush a tear away from her cheek.
“My two favourite men in the whole world. I just love you both, so much. So much.”
Jake’s tears begin to fall as well, the overwhelming emotions of the day finally proving too much.
Finally, the child they had been hoping for, for so long, was here.
And finally, they were parents.
“Best day ever.”
***
With slow and careful movements, Jake lowers baby Leo into his crib, hovering over his still sleeping son for a minute to make sure that the movement hasn’t disturbed his sleep. Parenting was hard, and he had suitcases instead of bags building up underneath his eyes, but there was a very small possibility that maybe he was kinda nailing it.
He can feel all of the muscles in his body cry out in relief as he slips under the sheets, melting into the softest mattress he’s ever owned (and truly, a worthy investment in many ways).
Now that he was (thankfully) back in bed, and their apartment was (also thankfully) silent, Jake shifts his position so that he can look over at his sleeping wife. Amy has missed out on more sleep than him by far, and is still recovering from what had happened only a month ago, but still she manages to look so crazily beautiful in her sleep that Jake cannot stop the smile that breaks out over his face.
She has always managed to amaze Jake; and challenge him in ways that he’d never expected, but if there was anything to be taken from the last nine months, it was that there could never be anybody quite like Amy Santiago.
The memories of all that has passed wash over Jake as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair away from Amy’s face, and as she lets out a soft sigh in response he shuffles just that little bit closer.
One day, he’ll be able to tell her about all the different Amy’s he met during her pregnancy. But, for now, he’s happy to have it live in his memories.