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only you have shown me how to love being alive
Jake almost reaches for a tie the first morning.
There’s a fleeting sting of sorrow when he lowers his hand from the drawer where he keeps them, putting on a black t-shirt and throwing on yesterday’s hoodie instead. He grew fond of them in the end.
It’s only fleeting, though, because the next second he hears his son’s familiar shrieks of laughter from the kitchen, and it’s impossible not to smile as he goes to join his family for breakfast.
It’s his first day as a stay-at-home dad, and it’s Amy’s first day as a freaking chief of police, and it’s the first day of a brand new life but it also feels just the same. He kisses Mac good morning first, because their son is one and a half years old now and old enough to understand and be offended if he isn’t everyone’s first priority in every situation always, and then manages to plant a sneaky kiss on Amy’s temple while Mac is busy inspecting his spoon.
“Good morning, chief Santiago.”
She grins and points him to the pot of fresh coffee on the kitchen counter. “Still not used to hearing that.”
“You better hurry up then, because people are going to be calling you that all day,” Jake says as he pours himself a cup in the Number One Dad-mug Charles gifted him the same day Jake and Amy made their pregnancy news official. “When do we leave?”
“In an hour.” Amy pulls at the sleeves of her dressing-gown. “I gotta say, it’s weird.”
“You’re going to ace it, babe.”
“I hope so,” she says, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. The slice of toast in front of her only has a tiny bite mark in it, and she's shaking the slightest bit when he holds her hand. Jake tries to channel all his conviction into the smile he gives her.
“I know so.”
Apparently having deemed the spoon untrustworthy, Mac decides to just scoop out the oatmeal from it by hand and eat it from his fingers. Amy’s arm twitches, almost reaching out to stop him, but she stops herself in the last second. They're trying to teach him how to eat on his own, and, well, at least some of the food is ending up where it's meant to be now. It's progress.
“I’ll clean him off when he's done,” Jake promises his wife as she takes a deep breath when Mac forgoes the spoon entirely for his next bite.
“Thanks, babe. I’m going to go get ready.” Amy takes another minimal bite of her toast before standing up and pushing in her chair. “I’ll drink some juice later,” she adds, seeing Jake's worried look.
“It's just me and you today then, bud.” Jake ruffles Mac’s hair as Amy disappears into the bathroom. “It's going to be just you and me a lot of days for a while.”
Mac babbles something incomprehensible in return and stretches out his oatmeal-sticky hand to Jake. Jake shakes it, smiling as it makes his son laugh that completely unrestrained laughter he's never going to get enough of.
“You’re right. It's going to be great.”
~
Amy's quiet for the whole ride to One Police Plaza, staring out the window while picking at her lip. Jake doesn't try to make her talk, because it seems like she needs this time, but he keeps glancing over at her. The new uniform is freshly pressed and steamed, her hair in a neat ponytail, and it reminds him of her first day as a sergeant only four years ago. It’s crazy how much their world has changed since then, from the wedding rings on their fingers to the toddler babbling in his car seat in the back, when it also feels just like yesterday.
He’s so proud of her. He wants her to know that, and he knows that she knows, because he's told her so many times and probably will for the rest of his life.
Even the garage at One Police Plaza is intimidating, and Amy squeezes his hand when they park.
“It's going to be weird not having you with me.”
“Ames, come on. We both know you've never actually needed me for these things.”
Amy looks down at her rings – she's wearing both of them today. “Yeah. But I’m going to miss knowing you're only a floor away. It was comforting.”
“I’ll be just a text away if you need me,” he says, “And so will Mac. Isn't that right, Macadocious? Are we gonna be texting mama all day?”
“Mama!”
“See? He agrees.” Jake takes off his seatbelt and reaches around to tickle Mac’s cheeks, making him laugh. “And who's gonna totally smash it at their extremely important job today, because they're the greatest at pretty much everything they do and so ready for this?”
Their son looks confounded, but then he shines up. “Mac!”
“Anyone else?” Jake asks as Amy folds over double with laughter.”Maybe, I don't know, also mama?”
“Mac!”
“Well,” Jake sighs, “I guess the message of self-love is getting through. But hey, Ames – I meant that. Holt wouldn't have picked you for this if he didn't trust that you could do it. You're not actually going to question Holt’s judgment, are you?”
He expects that to make her laugh, but instead, her eyes go soft, a tear rolling down her cheek as she looks at him. “I love you.”
“We love you too, babe.”
She leans forward to kiss him. Without thinking, he kisses her back, trying to pour every bit of how proud he is into it.
“No!” The voice of their own angry mini-dictator breaks them apart after only a few seconds. “Mac!”
“This kid really doesn't know how he got here, does he?” Jake grumbles, and Amy grins as she gets out of her seat.
“No, and he's never finding out either. You’re right, baby, I need to say goodbye to you first.”
Amy lets Mac out of his car seat so she can hold him in her arms, standing there with her eyes closed and slightly swaying as Mac clings on to her so tight. For the first time that day, she looks fully at peace.
“Get in here too, Jake,” she whispers when she notices him staring, and that pulls him out of his daydreaming to join the family hug.
Mac holds his hand as they watch Amy walk off to the elevator. She waves to them before getting in, and they both wave back.
“Well,” Jake says as they watch the doors slide to a close. “What do you say we start our new job with a trip to the park, buddy?”
“Swings!”
“Swings it is.”
~
There are only a few other families outside in the park this early on a grey Monday, and Mac cheers and tries to run for the free swings the moment he sees them. Jake smiles to himself as he chases after. It might be a small thing, and it’s not something he knows if Mac will even remember, but he’s happy that his son will get to have memories of going to the park without having to wait in line for a free swing forever. He's even happier he can be there to make them with him.
When he first got suspended back in the fall, he’d struggled to figure out how to best fill his days with Mac. Some days, he’d planned too many things in one day and ended up sharing tears with his son in an IKEA out of sheer overwhelmedness. Other days, the plans hadn't been nearly enough and they'd both been bored out of their minds by mid-day. It had taken him some time to find the perfect structure; one activity before lunch, one after. A park visit and a grocery run. Storytime at the local bookshop and a visit to the cozy thrift store with a surprisingly good play area for kids. Not too big ones, not on their own, nothing crazy. Always evenings at home. He's planning to go with the same kind of routine now, mixing in some parent and toddler-classes to make sure Mac’s still getting that socialization. He's got a plan. It’s going to be good.
Last night, Amy had asked him a final time if he was sure he’d be happy like this, if he was certain they shouldn't try to find a different solution, and he’d promised her he absolutely was. He still is, and he knows he's made the right decision for their family, but he’d be lying if he said it doesn't feel a little daunting, too. He wants to be at home with Mac, and he's beyond ecstatic over all the time they're going to get to spend together now, but it's a lot to wrap his head around the fact that they’ll probably be doing this for years. It's not just five months anymore – it's something permanent. A new normal, not an exemption from it.
When Jake's arms are getting sore from pushing the swing – anyone who claims that he doesn't work out is lying – Mac starts pointing to the sandbox, and Jake's all too happy to change activities until he realizes they don't have sand toys. Those are in the other car, and there's not as much as a lone plastic bucket lying around as far as Jake can see. What he can see is a mom and a toddler in matching short ginger hairstyles and jean jackets, the toddler digging in the sand with a pink toy spade and a rake, and he decides to push through the awkwardness.
“Hey, have you got any more of those I could borrow?” He asks the mom, who smiles and brings out an identical yellow set from a plastic bag. “Thanks. I keep forgetting to bring them.”
“I feel you,” she says. “It took me a long time to get into the routine of it.”
“Yeah.” Jake blushes as he sits down on the edge of the sandbox, watching as Mac gets right to work with digging a hole. “It's kind of my first day doing this.”
“It's your first day staying at home with him?”
“Not ever,” Jake’s quick to defend himself. “I’ve had time off with him before. But now I’m doing it full time, indefinitely. It's my first day of that. So yes and no? It's my first day, but not my first-first? Like I’m not one of those dads who’s never spent time with their kid before, but I guess it's still new in a way. Properly being a stay-at-home-parent, I mean.”
Jean jacket mom only laughs at his rambling and reaches out her hand. “I’m Jess.” She points to her daughter. “This is Dot. Dorothy, but we just say Dot.”
“Jake.” He shakes her hand. “And that's Mac.”
“Mac!”
“Who’s learned how to say his name now.”
“Cute,” says Jess, smiling at Mac too. “Welcome to the first day of the job then, Jake.”
“Thanks.” Jake grins. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll remember the sand toys.”
“Can I ask what prompted it?” Jess says after a while, after they’ve resolved a minor crisis when Dot decided she wanted Mac’s yellow spade. It took some convincing, but now Mac is playing with the pink one, and Jake thinks it looks like they might even be playing together. They’re at least sitting next to each other and no one is screaming, which Jake assumes is pretty good for two one-year-olds.
“Prompted what?”
“You staying home with him. It sucks that it is that way, but I don’t usually see a lot of stay-at-home-dads out here. Did you switch off with your wife?”
“No.” Jake shakes his head. “She was on maternity leave when he was tiny, but we weren’t stay-at-home-parents. But she started a new job today, and it’s this huge opportunity, and I didn’t want her to have to do it halfway. It was just hard to get it to work out with me working too, and us still being present parents, so… I left.”
“What does she do?”
“Chief of police,” he says, feeling warm with pride. “She’s going to help them implement a new reform program.”
Jess nods slowly. “That’s a big thing.”
“If anyone can do it, it’s her.”
“Well, I think it’s really cool that you’re doing that for her.”
Jake looks at Mac, who would be getting a lot further with the hole he’s digging if he didn’t keep emptying the sand back in the exact same place. Somehow the complete lack of progress doesn’t seem to be bothering him. “It’s for me too. And him, of course, but I wanted to do it.”
“It can be a pretty great job,” Jess says, brushing off some sand that’s gotten in Dot’s hair. “Well, we’re off to lunch with mom soon, so I think we have to go. It was nice to meet you though, Jake and Mac.”
“Wait, do you want to exchange numbers or something?” Jake hurries to point to the two toddlers before anything comes off the wrong way. He can see the rainbow pin on Jess’ jacket, though. “Mac could use some stay-at-home-friends.”
“Mac or you?”
Jake just grimaces in reply.
~
They do lunch at home, during which Amy facetimes them for a bit and Mac gets so excited that he spills pasta with tomato sauce all over himself. Lunch has to be followed by another quick bath before he goes down for his afternoon nap, while Jake cleans up the kitchen and tries to catch up with Amy over text and also eat his own lunch. She’s doing good, she says, she misses them, and she’s going to try to be home early if Holt lets her. Jake sends her a couple of pictures of Mac from the park, and she sends back a picture of her desk where she's put a framed family selfie of the three of them. It's one of Jake's favorites, with Mac in the middle sticking his tongue out and them both laughing at him. It feels strange not to be there and see that picture in person while hanging out at her desk during a free moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. It just feels different.
Mac wakes up crying the moment Jake has made himself comfortable on the couch with his Switch in the hopes that he might be able to get some Animal Crossing in. After establishing that his son has approximately zero interest in going back to sleep, Jake decides to take him to the library for the afternoon’s activity.
It’s unusually quiet in the kids’ section, or maybe it’s just because there are no classes running today, but Mac seems to love having most of the space for himself. Jake plays store with him for a while, although Mac’s understanding of the concept seems limited considering he keeps taking back all the toy food no matter how much fake money Jake gives him, and then he lets him take his time staring at all the murals and interactive toys in the library’s youth wing. When he eventually starts to tire, they pick out a few books and curl up in one of the couches together. Jake reads a book about an imaginative fox to him until he can feel Mac’s head getting heavy on his shoulder, realizing that his son is fast asleep. He sits there with him for a while longer, letting Mac continue the nap he probably didn’t finish earlier. It’s not like they’re in a rush.
When it doesn’t seem like Mac’s going to wake up any time soon, Jake carefully moves him to the stroller and heads towards the other wing. He’s got time now, after all. A couple of the mystery novels displayed as popular loans are about detectives, and Jake smiles as he reads a paragraph where one character describes how he’d always dreamed of becoming a cop. It feels familiar, but it’s like he can tell how much this book is going to glorify police work before he’s read more than a page. He puts it back on the shelf and grabs one about a tough female PI instead. If it’s any good, he could recommend it to Rosa.
Mac wakes up around the same time Jake's headache reminds him he's not had coffee since early this morning, so they find a nearby coffee shop for an afternoon snack. The display is filled with cakes and cookies of all different shapes and kinds, making Jake's mouth water, and he’s grateful Mac’s not old enough to understand how underwhelming his fruit-and-nut bar is in comparison. The only thing he's disappointed in seems to be the toddler chair, because he squirms and complains until Jake lets him sit on the couch instead. Mac can just about reach to rest his elbows on the table as he tries to drink his juice box at the same time, his little fleece hoodie bundling up around his shoulders and almost covering his face, but he looks so proud of himself. Jake thinks about bringing him here after school when he gets older. One day Mac’s going to fit perfectly on that couch and lean his arms on the table like he's never done anything else in his life, and it's probably going to be sooner than Jake wants to think about. It brings him comfort to know for a fact that at least, he'll be there to see it. Maybe these coffee dates will become a father-son-tradition between them, like Sal’s Pizza was for Jake and Roger once. They have so many chances to make those now.
~
He's got dinner in the oven by the time it hits him that he’s barely thought about his old job all day. The name plaque from his desk is still laying on top of the pile of mail he meant to go through, and he lets his index finger trace the lines of the engraved Det. before putting it back down. It's weird to think that he's not going to be presenting himself with that title for a long time; maybe not ever again. There was a time when it was the greatest pride of his life and central focus of his identity, and now it's only three letters on a plaque that are no longer true. He wonders at what point it will start to feel real. He thinks he’ll miss it more that day, but he knows he’s made the right choice, and that knowledge makes it easier to push away the slight panic he feels whenever he thinks of the permanence of it. For now, he just slides the form asking them to sign up for the next period of baby gymnastics on top of the nameplate. He really needs to remember to change their slot from Saturdays to a weekday.
Amy doesn’t get home until Mac has finished his dinner, and Jake can tell from the wistfulness in her eyes that she’s sad over it.
“I’m not too late, right?”
“Not at all,” Jake assures her as Mac begins to call out mama, mama, mama, trying so hard to climb out of the chair that Jake has to lift him out before any accidents can happen. “You’re just in time for today’s bath number three.”
Jake lets Amy put Mac to bed on her own. It’s part of the deal they’ve made for these new days, and as jealous as he is of the fact that she gets to be the one to dress a squeaky clean baby in pink zip-up pajamas with dinosaurs and snuggle him as he sucks on a pacifier while they read a story in the nursing chair now turned story chair, he knows how much she’s missed him and how important it is to her to still be as an equal parent as possible. She’s going to get Mac up in the mornings and take over when she comes home, and they’re still going to have weekends together, and maybe it won’t be fifty-fifty, but they’re both going to be there for him. That’s what’s important, and Jake feels good about it. Plus, he’s already gotten to put Mac down for a nap twice today, so he’s not as jealous as he could have been. He grabs a beer from the fridge instead – the first day of their new jobs deserves to be celebrated – and pours a glass of wine for Amy, and then he grabs the book he borrowed from the library earlier and steals Amy’s favorite blanket while he waits for her on the couch.
“Well, I sure don’t hate this sight,” Amy says as she comes out from Mac’s nursery, taking the other side of the couch. She pulls her legs up, resting her elbows on her knees and chin in her hands as she looks at him with a pleased smirk he recognizes well. If she’d been a cat, Jake imagines she’d be purring right now. “Reading, huh?”
“Yeah, I told you we went to the library.” Jake digs in his pocket and pulls out an old receipt only because Amy would probably kill him if he dog-eared a library book. “I figured I might have time to fill.”
“I thought the same thing during my maternity leave,” Amy says, shaking her head. “I think I finished two physical books in five months, plus a couple of audiobooks when I was nursing. And that was during the time Mac stayed where you put him, so don't have too high expectations of yourself.”
“Fine.” Jake grimaces. “But hey, we can talk about my reading later –”
“Oh, we definitely will.”
“ – How was your first day? I wanna hear everything.”
Amy launches into an explanation of all the challenges that lay ahead with implementing the program, how there’s lots of positive feedback but a lot of skepticism too, how Holt’s told her the next few months are going to be a challenge, but hopefully a rewarding one.
“It’s going to be intense,” she says finally, taking a big sip from her glass of wine before putting it down again. “But I’m proud of what we’re doing, and I know it’s the right thing. It’s going to be worth it.”
“I’m proud of you,” he reminds her again, taking her left hand in both of his and squeezing it. “If anyone can do it, Ames, it’s you.”
She absolutely shines at the praise this time. It’s oceans from the tense smiles of this morning, and Jake is relieved.
“Holt did ask about you, actually,” she adds, and Jake raises an eyebrow. “He wanted to know if you had activated that Rosetta Stone subscription yet.”
“Ew. No.” Jake fakes a shudder. “Seriously, that man does not know how to give gifts.”
“You say that now, but I know one evening I’m going to come home and find you in front of the computer, completely butchering the pronunciation of all the fruits and vegetables in Spanish.”
“Shut up,” he mumbles, but he knows she’s right. Amy just giggles, leaning her head to the side.
“Yeah. But how was your first day at your new job? I wanna hear everything, too.”
“Oh, not bad. Though I will say my new boss is really strong-willed, and he could do with some improvement when it comes to listening to what his subordinates have to say, if you know what I mean? He also did make me carry him a lot, and I had to bathe him twice, so I don’t know. Do you think that’s normal?”
“I think it’s okay if your boss is one and a half and related to you, yes.”
“Oh, that’s such a relief, ‘cause I really didn’t want to make it awkward on the first day, and I’m not even sure who HR is yet, and it’d just become this whole thing that I wanted to avoid.”
Amy laughs so hard she has to protect her mouth with her hand as she tries not to spit out the wine at the same time. It’s infectious, and it makes him grin, too.
“Fine. It was really, really great.”
“I’m glad,” she says, still smiling with tears in her eyes from the laughter attack. “And I’m proud of you too. You made a really big choice.”
“I know.” Jake looks at their countertop, where can still see his old nameplate sticking out from the mail pile. “I guess it is kind of weird thinking about how I’m just not a cop anymore? All the other times I’ve been gone, I’ve known it was temporary, but now it’s just… not something I am anymore.”
“Do you think you’ll miss it?” Amy asks, spinning the wine glass slowly in her hand. “It’s okay, if you do.”
For a moment, Jake allows himself to think these thoughts he’s still trying to push back – never working another case with Charles, never entering the bullpen after a big win again, never starting another morning in the briefing room trying to pull pranks on Holt.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “Yeah, I probably will. Maybe a lot some days. It’s been one of the greatest things in my life. But this, being with Mac all day – that’s awesome too. Today was great, and there are probably so many more incredible days to come with him that I have no idea about yet. Like he’s tiny now, but I know when he gets bigger it’s going to be even cooler. And just think of how much help I can be if we have another kid.”
Amy coughs, almost choking on her sip of wine for the second time. “Excuse me?”
“I said if!”
Amy just shakes her head, but Jake thinks he can see the corners of her mouth twitching. “Maybe when I’ve settled into this new job, we can come back to it. You're right,” she says, leaning on his shoulder. “It would make it a lot easier.”
Jake thinks of the utter fascination in Mac’s face when they’d all met Tony’s youngest baby last week, and tries to imagine another mini-Amy-lookalike sleeping in his arms. He’d been so scared to have just one kid; now, when he knows they’ll have time, he can't let go of the thought of another.
“Love that. But even if we don’t,” he says with a squeeze of her hand, “I know this was the best decision. I’m proud of what I did, but I’m proud of this too. And just because I’m at home with him now, it doesn’t mean I can’t ever do something similar again one day. It’ll still be out there if I ever want to go back. Just not right now. And I think I’m okay with it.” He swallows. “I know I’m okay with it.”
Amy’s lips brush lightly against his neck, up his throat, his jawline. “I love you,” she whispers, her breath tickling his ear. ”So, so, much.”
“I love you, too.” He reaches for a proper kiss, letting out a little hum of pleasure when she puts down the wine glass so she can kiss him properly, both her hands cupping his face and pulling him closer.
“Now,” she says when they eventually pull apart, her fingers already stroking along his sides where the t-shirt has slid up and her messy bun earning its name, “should we talk about your reading again?”
“You really are so consistent.”
It may be a new life, Jake thinks as they make out on the couch for a while longer after that just because, but if he gets to end his days like this, it's not going to be hard to get used to it.
And tomorrow, he's even going to remember the sand toys.
~
until it's time to see the light, I'll make my own with you each night
I'll kidnap all the stars and I will keep them in your eyes
I'll wrap them up in velvet twine, and hang them from a fishing line
so I can see them anytime I like
darling, don't you weep
there's a place for me
somewhere we can sleep, I'll see you in your dreams
darling, don't you cry
head fast toward the light
foolish men have tried
but only you have shown me how to love being alive
~ darling, by halsey