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He shouldn’t be allowed to look at her like that.
Amy’s had to put up with Jake looking at her a lot these last couple of days. (And that is totally the right way of putting it, because she so did not sign up for him to be looking at her in any way but as her partner and friend. That’s the only way she looks at him after all when he’s looking at her.)
But no, first it was that acutely uncomfortable look when she confronted him about being all weird lately and he told her he’s been about to ask her out before she told him her no dating cops rule (she’d handled that really well, she thought); then there was that look he was careful not to give her when she started unbuttoning her shirt in back of the van (she’d totally nailed dealing with that too); then the look of, what was it, surprise? Discomfort again? When she’d kissed his cheek… She’d dealt well with it at the time but she’d still felt the need to apologise for it later because, yep, it had definitely been discomfort on his face, and it wouldn’t have been there if he was feeling totally platonic towards her. Then that soft, completely fond look he’d had when she’d said he made her laugh (and why she’d said that she didn’t know, because then he gave her that look and said what he’d said and she’d found herself staring at him and… well, whatever, she’d handled it).
Then, of course, he’d kissed her. On the mouth. So now she totally knew what look Jake got on his face before he kissed someone. Namely her. On the mouth.
She really hadn’t needed to know that.
But she’d dealt with that one really well too. Totally professionally. They shook hands, so it was fine.
(Okay so she’d kind of lost her cool when they got back in the van but let’s just forget about that. Jake would definitely have told Charles eventually, and let’s face it Charles would have told Rosa if Rosa didn’t just work it out herself, so it was fine that they found out then. And their reactions actually helped in a weird way. It had made it seem less real. Because, of course, it wasn’t. You know. Real. It was for work purposes.)
But it had definitely felt real again in the park. And that split-second look of realisation and acceptance and… eagerness? that had come right before she’d kissed him had seemed real as well.
Once again, she so hadn’t needed that. And she hadn’t needed the way his hands came up to grasp her waist and pull her towards him as he fell back against the tree, or the way he tilted his head to move his lips against hers.
Okay, the point was there’d been Looks, alright, with a capital L. She totally hadn’t signed up for it, but she’d totally been dealing. She was a professional.
But then Holt was leaving. He just… he said he was being transferred and there was no time to adjust or find out why or ask him to stay, and his voice broke as he said goodbye, and through the tears in her eyes Amy had seen the look of bewildered devastation on Jake’s face at that moment, and she’d known it was the same as hers. And just then she hadn’t wanted to keep her distance from Jake like she’d been telling herself for the last days, weeks and months, she’d wanted to burrow into his side and feel his arms around her again. She’d wanted it so much that she’d run away to the evidence locker, needing to be alone with her thoughts and away from Jake and his arms and his Looks.
She’d composed herself by the time he came to find her about fifteen minutes later, so she felt pretty confident as she faced him. But the fact was he’d come to find her, known exactly where to find her, and she couldn’t help but be touched that he’d sought her out… and the look he gave her then was pure understanding and she’d realised this was the first time they’d been alone - properly alone, not break room alone - for weeks, and even as she was still talking she felt the tension spiking between them and Jake had had that look again that she recognised from their first kiss and this time she’d stepped into it, her hands sliding up his shoulders as his wound round her waist and they kissed again.
Third time in two days, if you were the kind to keep count of that kind of thing (Amy is).
(His lips are really soft by the way. Which is something else Amy could have done with never knowing.)
They pull apart, and Amy’s thinking of all the reasons that that was a terrible idea and what the hell she’s meant to say now, and then she opens her eyes and there’s that look. She’s seen it before, once, in the middle of a dinner that was the most uncomfortable half hour of her life. It’s part surprise and part happiness and mostly just… well, awe, and she’d kind of dismissed it the first time because it was gone quickly and, again, most uncomfortable half hour ever, but now…
No had ever looked at her like that. He shouldn’t be looking at her like that. He has no right, not when she’s so confused about her feelings for him, not when she’s trying so hard to keep things professional.
But he hadn’t got the memo about not giving her the look, and there’s only so long you can be the focus of a look like that and not do something, you have to pull away or… something else.
(Amy’s hands are still on Jake’s chest, and she can feel his heart under her right palm. It’s beating so fast, completely contrasting how still he’s standing, all his energy seemingly spent on looking at her like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen.)
Amy chooses to do something else.
Her hands close, fisting his shirt, and it seems to snap Jake out of his stillness because he’s moving his hands across her back by the time their lips meet again. If you needed to pick words for each of their previous kisses, Amy would pick awkward, desperate, and tender. This kiss is none of those words. The word for this kiss is demanding.
It’s demanding in the way Jake’s hands slide up her back to her shoulder blades and then back down to her hips, pulling him flush against him. Demanding in the way she buries one hand in his hair, tugging slightly and making him groan. Demanding in the way Jake’s lips slant over hers, how his tongue is in her mouth, how his back’s against the metal shelves, how Amy surges up onto her tiptoes to press him back as tightly as she can.
One of her hands slides under the collar of his shirt to grasp at his shoulder, covered by his undershirt but still so warm, and one of his hands finds its way to the skin of her lower back, and Amy arches into him at the unexpected heat of his palm. His other hand is at the back of her neck, cradling her head as he steps away from the shelves, backing her up until she’s the one pressed against the opposite rack, hard metal pressing his warm hand firmer against her skin.
It’s around this time that Amy starts to feel light-headed. It’s a long time since she’s gotten so lost in kissing someone that she actually needs to separate to breathe, but she recognises the warning signs. Jake must be feeling something too, because the kiss goes from demanding to deep to slow to lips barely brushing - he doesn’t pull away, just rests his forehead against hers, his nose nudging her cheek. Amy’s hand is still in his hair.
Amy keeps her eyes closed long after getting her breath back. She’s not scared exactly, but she knows that what just happened isn’t going to be something they can just sweep away with a handshake. And she doesn’t want to. It’s true she was scared of change, but change had come for her anyway. Maybe it was okay, as long as she could have this. As long as she could have Jake.
She opens her eyes and slides her hand down to rest on Jake’s shoulder, and he takes that as his cue to lift his head. He blinks, that impossible look back on his face, but this time it doesn’t linger - he smirks, and Amy braces herself for whatever joke he’s about come out with.
“So, this is happening.”
Amy blinks, and then smiles. It’s classic Peralta - hiding a serious question behind teasing, her own words parroted back at her. But she’s close enough to see the hesitation behind his eyes, and she can feel the tension in his body where it’s still pressed against hers.
She squeezes his shoulders. “Yes, it is,” she says.