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letsperaltiago · 3 years

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as long as you're with me it's always the time of the year

🌟 HAPPY 6TH OF DECEMBER: DOOR ONE 🌟

Welcome to door one of four!

Behind my Christmas calendar’s first door is a... pre-relationship Peraltiago Christmas oneshot! ♥️ And I bet you have this series overall “theme” figured out now 😙If not then I guess you’ll have to tune back in in another six days! Until then I hope you can enjoy this first fic in the Christmas calendar/oneshot series!

Summary: The only thing Jake likes about the holidays is the Nine-Nine's annual Christmas party. This year, perhaps, he will come to prefer Amy's misfortune and company. Takes place somewhere between S02 E09: The Roadtrip and S2 E011:The stakeout.

Rating: G Words: 6k

Read on AO3 here

🎁⬇️OPEN DOOR ONE HERE ⬇️🎁

The smell of pine trees, cinnamon and every other Christmas spice imaginable hangs over the precinct when Jake walks in on his day off. Normally he’d never set a foot near work on one of his holy days off, but today is the precinct’s annual Christmas party, and that he of course isn’t stupid enough to miss. Who would want to miss out on happenings like Boyle bringing some unknown Christmas-snack no one would ever want; drunk-Amy making an appearance; Gina hustling secret Santa gifts from young beat cops? Not Jake, that’s for sure.

This year’s party is being held on the third floor, the Special Victims Unit’s floor, and the second the elevator doors open before him Jake is met by the loud buzz made up of Christmas music, and people talking and laughing. Colors are everywhere; from the different, ugly shirts and Christmas sweaters people are wearing to the familiar, cliché Christmas decorations which have probably been reused for the past twenty Christmas parties. It’s horribly perfect, Jake thinks. Perhaps he hates the holidays, yes, but he does love the messy parties they bring along.

“Jakey! Welcome!”

The detective has just barely stepped out of the elevator, onto festive grounds, when Charles appears right before him, holding two mugs of what appears to be some hot liquid. Jake is by no means very religious although he still prays to higher powers that said hot liquid is not that mulled Norwegian fish-wine his friend brought last year. Charles hands over one of the mugs and Jake is seriously afraid to look or, potentially even more hazardous, breathe in the toasty steam rising from it.

“Hey, bud. What’s that?”

“Mulled wine!” Charles takes a sip of his own mug meanwhile Jake can’t stop eyeing him, suspiciously so, because if there is one thing Jake doesn’t trust his best friend with then it’s primarily and definitely anything food and drink-related.

“Actual mulled wine or fish-wine?”

There is no getting around the fact that Charles is obviously hurt by the lack of trust his best friend is showing, when the little man’s face falls deadpan. “It happened once , Jake. One time.”

They start walking towards the briefing room, one much bigger than the one on their floor, where the life of the party is.

“I threw up for two days straight after last time - just saying, bud!”

Jake dares to smell the beverage and it does actually smell like actual mulled wine, so he hesitantly takes a sip, just in case it turns out he’s been betrayed. Alas the flavor tells him the liquid is indeed normal mulled wine, which makes this yet another cracked case for Peralta.

Inside the briefing room that is crowded with people, both some he knows and a lot that he doesn’t, a Christmas tree and all kinds of snacks and drinks, it’s hard to tell who is from what department and honestly? Jake doesn’t care. As long as people seem to be a good time and are willing to laugh at his hilarious charms then he’s down to clown. Or down to Santa - whatever Christmas-saying is more suitable.

“Has Gina scored herself some gifts yet? And how many drinks is Santiago at?”

Jake awaits an answer while his friend pours himself some more of the warm wine, and puts the time to good use by removing his leather jacket before hanging it on a random chair nearby. The party will be hot, literally, he figures.

“Hmm, last time I saw Gina she was up to two already…”

“Noice,” Jake nods in approval, mentally noting to check in with his friend later. This has to be the year she beats her record of eights gifts in one evening.

“... And Amy was up to one.”

“Not good enough.”

“We’ve only been here for an hour, Jake.”

Jake pauses. With the winter sun setting so early, he thought he’d missed out on hours of partying when in reality Boyle is right: it’s just barely 6.30 and he’s missed out on so little.

“Fair. I’ll give her that. Where is she anyway?”

Boyle turns just in time to see his friend scouting the room in hopes of finding his partner.

“Someone’s eager to hang out with Amy.” Just as his facial expression, rocking cocking eyebrows and a knowing smirk, Charles’ voice is laced with teasing tones. It’s no secret that Jake commiting to his feelings and acting on them, especially now that both him and Amy are single (and totally into each other, if you ask Charles) is at the top of the older detective’s wishlist - no matter how creepy it is.

“Shut up. I have a girlfriend.” Images of Sophia flash before him, the face she made when he promised her he didn’t like Amy anymore, and deep down Jake feels guilty. The feeling is quickly pushed aside though; he’s done nothing wrong and will do nothing wrong. He’s with Sophia - not Amy. “I just need to laugh at someone and Amy just so happens to be the perfect candidate.”

“Just like she’s perfect in every other way?”

“Boyle!” Jake lightly punches his friend on the arm and it almost causes Charles to spill the hot beverage. Just barely, he manages to restore the liquids balance and keep it in the cup.

“Hey! You almost made me drop my glühwein !” Leave it to Charles to pronounce the foreign word perfectly , and leave it to Jake to, as per usual, roll his eyes at it.

“Anyways, are you going to tell me where Amy is or not?”

The two friends stand back, facing the crowd in an attempt to comb through it, however everyone’s outfits seem so alike - ugly and colourful - and so it quickly hits them just how pointless the mission is.

“I don’t know about know, but last time I saw her she was by the women’s bathroom talking to Rosa. Haven’t seen her since.”

“Hm, okay,” Jake mumbles. “I’ll be right back. I just wanna say hi.”

“Sure you do.”

Quickly decoding the way his words are drenched in a certain teasing tone, Jake doesn’t even need to look at his friend to know there’s a knowing smirk plastered across his face. There’s no doubt: it’s easier for him to just walk away without looking back - so he does.

Boyle is a fool if he thinks he’s got a thing for Amy - that ship has long sailed. In the past, yes, he did have feelings for Amy… But that was before. Before Teddy and Sophia; before realising they were better off as friends; before, before, before. Sure, he’d felt something flare up inside of him that night at the inn with Teddy and Sophia when it was suddenly revealed that Amy used to like him, perhaps still did? He’ll admit that. However that entire trip was crazy, all kinds of emotions on display, and anything that said and/or happened there should be taken with a pinch of salt. Yes, he used to like Amy, ‘used to’ being the keyphrase. Now he was happy with Sophia and couldn't possibly have feelings for Amy. At least not romantic feelings, no. Friendly feelings, the sensation of being happy when around her? Sure. Now, months after said roadtrip to hell, things were back to normal: they were partners and friends, without any weirdness or doubt about the fact. That was it and the way it would stay, no matter what anyone said - especially Charles.

Suddenly he spots her, across the room in a corner with a cup in hand, talking to someone on the phone. The iconic red cup causes a smile to grow on Jake’s face as he is granted an early Christmas wish: drunk-Amy is going to make an appearance tonight. He appreciates all sides of Amy, although drunk-Amy is extra fun - especially ever since Gina let him in on the Santiago-drunkenness scale.

It takes her a second to pick up on his approach, but the second she sees him he receives a smile in return. Her hair is loose and shiny as alway. For tonight’s occasion it has a silvery head band holding it in place. To no one’s surprise, even less Jake’s, she’s wearing what he recognizes as her famous Santiago-dress pants. Although the blazer and usually colored shit has been replaced with a neatly ironed white shirt. The silver headband along with the white shirt? Of course Amy would go for an angel-look instead of a tacky red Santa or a green elf like many of their colleagues. Then again: white does look good really good on her, Jake admits to himself, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Charles’ words were stuck on repeat in his mind then maybe he would’ve told her. A nice, friendly compliment like… “You look pretty” or whatever other nice, not inappropriate thing he could say. It’s easier to say nothing at all, he figures.

The crowd around him is loud but he can hear her talking as he closes in on her. He waves to her and she half-mindedly waves back clearly focused on the conversation she’s in the midst of.

“Okay, yeah…”

He stops next to her and sips on his drink while she finishes up.

“We’ll go meet Santa on Sunday then… Yeah, I’ll meet you there. Bye.”

Although he hates to admit it, Jake is happy to see her hang up. It means she can switch her attention to him.

“Tinder date?” He asks.

She looks up, from putting her phone away, with what Jake considers the iconic ‘ you’re an idiot’-grimace, as a consequence reminding him of the one thing he has a hard time admitting - even to himself: she looks really cute doing just that and he likes that he’s the one person that can bring it out of her.

“Ha. Ha.” Her fake laugh is drier than the failed Christmas cookies she brought last year. “What do you think I do on Tinder-dates?”

“Meet Santa - apparently.”

It’s clear as day that the young man takes immense pleasure in the easygoing banter, the special kind he can only have with Amy, and even though his mouth says and shows one thing then his shining eyes definitely don’t agree. Infatuation is the word although he would never dare to call himself out on it. That was Charles’ job, but luckily no one, to Jake’s advantage, would ever believe the always way too excited little man.

“I can’t believe how funny you are, Peralta,” Amy retorts, voice stuck in the same still flat tone that tries to make believe she isn’t very amused and delighted by the fact that Jake located her just to tease her. It’s a special kind of attention, one she at times has dreaded but with time slowly and surely has come to like - a lot. Even though she pretends not to.

“I can’t believe you go on Tinder-dates, Santiago.”

“I never said I did? You did.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow in objection.

“Right, right… Forgot you used to have feelings for me, which means you must’ve cut off all dating in hopes of me coming around one day.”

In all honesty Jake can’t, for the life of him, figure out why he says what he does sometimes. Although, apparently, there must be somewhat truth to it considering how Amy feels her palms heat up against her cold drink, blood rushing to her face where it quickly takes apparent form as a rosy color tinting the apples of her cheeks. Jake, even though it’s so very tempting, tries not to think any of it. Replaying in his mind is the look of confusion and pain on Amy’s face when it was brought up that Amy used to like him. Perhaps it was true but if bringing it up, in a context that wasn’t just for fun and banter, would cause Amy the same troubled feelings from back at the Maple Drip Inn, then it definitely wasn’t worth bringing up again. He shouldn't have said that. Amy didn’t have feelings for him anymore - chapter closed.

“Sorry. Bad joke.”

“It’s fine.” She tries to chuckle it off but he knows a genuine Amy-laugh and this isn’t it.

“Anyways,” Jake takes another sip of his drink leaving the word hanging in the air for a few seconds, aspiring for a change of subject, in case his partner wants to take advantage. She doesn’t though. His turn, he figures. “If not a mystery man, then who was it?”

She shakes her head smiling at his persistence. “It was my brother Anthony. Him, Christian and I are taking my nephews and nieces to meet Santa.”

“Wow, all five hundred of them?”

Amy has to laugh at this, a genuine laugh this time, one with no snarky comment because he’s kind of right: her family is huge and she appreciates him taking note of it even though the number is horribly wrong.

“Almost… Just the ten of them.”

A shared chuckle between the two settles a nice and comfortable atmosphere around the two; one where the rest of the room disappears into the background and it’s just the two of them laughing and poking at each other as if there’s no half-awkward and delicate taboo to dance around.

Sadly the moment isn’t meant to last for much longer. Jake is halfway into one of his crazy stories, making Amy laugh louder and louder with every sip of her first drink. Out of nowhere, a heavy figure, certainly bigger than Amy’s, comes tumbling into her from the side and it to no one’s surprise results in her drink flying out of her hands, splashing all over her. Amy lets out a whelp, time stands still, everything seems to go silent as everyone around Amy, Jake included, stares in horror at the sudden mess.

Her drink, an unknown clear liquid mixed with melting ice, meets her previously so white and crisp shirt immediately soaking it - there’s no saving it.

“Oh, shit.” The stutter comes from the young man of the hour, someone Jake quickly recognizes at the loud and ruthless - and that’s coming from Jake - beat cop, Officer Miller. Jake finally snaps out of his daze, surprise and disbelief having him thrown completely off track. It’s then he really notices the look of horror on his partner’s half-drenched, very disappointed face, and even though he’s not to blame and it’s barely been ten seconds since the moment of collision, he wishes he’d reacted sooner.

“Oh my gosh,” Amy spits out, the sad remains of her drink plastered to her lower face and clothes.

“Fuck,” Miller adds another stutter to the list of pointless doings, right amidst the act of just standing there completely incapable of anything at all. From his point of view, Jake is witnessing the hopelessness play out before him - Amy frozen, in shock, and Miller simply staring in disbelief at the consequences of his own acts - when he suddenly notices how the young officer’s eyes shamelessly wander, from where they were looking at Amy’s face, downwards. Why whould he-

Jake’s eyes trail along, ingeniously, but quickly fly back to where they were looking at the offender - this time with rage in them. Miller’s eyes are still gawking at one specific area on Amy: her torso where her previously nice, white shirt - one Jake can picture Amy spending hours ironing and being excited to wear - is now very much see-through.

“Hey, what the hell, man!”

Jake is by no means a violent person, nevertheless he can’t contain himself. Not when Amy is right before him looking like a lost puppy. He lightly punches the other man’s shoulder.

“What the hell, yourself! Don’t touch me!” Miller, having finally snapped out of his perverted daydream, defends himself and takes a threatening step towards Jake.

“Jake, it’s okay-” Just like all the seminars have taught her, Amy tries to interrupt the escalating conflict; one that’s somehow partly her fault but at the same time not at all. However, feeling very exposed, starting to feel anxious, she doesn’t force anything. Left to do is nothing but to stand back and watch Jake stand his ground - even when the younger but notably taller man steps up to him.

“How about you have some decency and apologize to my partner?”

Jake is enraged, obviously by the drink-incident itself, but mostly by the young officer’s disrespectful reaction that followed suit. On the occasion that he wouldn’t much rather use his energy on listening to and helping Amy then maybe, just maybe, he would’ve engaged further. Inside his head he counts down from ten, still glaring with fiery eyes at Miller, and not moving before he’s reached zero. As if on cue Amy breaks the silence.

“Jake… Let it go. It was an accident.”

She’s too good for her own self, he thinks. Her voice is shaky, not disturbingly so but just enough to get Jake to turn around, and his reasoning is confirmed: his energy and time is better spent helping her, however he can. The crowd around them has once again started buzzing, as if nothing ever happened, and the only thing Jake has eyes for is Amy and the distressing way in which she has her arms crossed before her in an attempt to hide herself. Her body’s posture obviously translates to her facial features, the anxiety starting to show, so of course Jake wastes no time; without further hesitation, he pulls off his iconic blue hoodie and makes sure to help it onto her, shielding her from the rest of the party. Once in a while he throws a glance at her face, and he can tell the very second it hits her that he must’ve seen it too since he knows what’s going on.

“Don’t worry about it. Except for that idiot, no one saw anything. Don’t think about it… Okay?” He reassures her, hopefully putting her mind at ease, and makes sure to catch her eyes before continuing. Hopefully she believes him.

“Thank you,” she whispers as they stand face to face while Jake makes sure his hoodie is covering her properly. He wants to smile, be the good in her dreadful situation, but still feeling too pissed he can only muster a nod before he wraps a protective arm around her shoulder. “Come with me, Amy. Lets go fix this.” It’s his way of telling her to come with him, that she can trust him and that he’ll take care of it. He can feel her follow him, thus guiding her to the elevator.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

Still in a somewhat trance-like state, Amy lets Jake guide her, arm safely around her shoulder and small-talking to keep her calm, down the dimly lit hall of the basement and into the Nine-Nine’s men’s locker room. Her soaked shirt has slowly started soaking through Jake’s hoodie, the wet tips of Amy’s hair dripping onto it as well, and there’s a very good reason Jake has brought her where he has. He doesn’t waste a second and gently sits her down on the bench in the middle of the many lockers.

“Just sit tight, Ames. I’m going to fix this.”

She nods instead of breaking her silence, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the embarrassing situation which has unfortunately triggered an anxious part of her that she most of the time can keep in check. Alas this situation was too much, understandably so, and all she has to cling onto is her partner rummaging rather aimlessly through what she hopes is his locker. Must be; the inside of the door is covered in a Die Hard poster, and Amy feels herself smile a bit at the sight. That is so very Jake Peralta. Even more so when, during the intense search, all kinds of random items accidently fall out of the locker. Everything from packs of gum and old receipts to DVDs and lonely socks.

“Aha! Knew I had it in here!”

Jake pulls a chequered item from the depths of his - very messy, Amy can’t help but shudder - locker before turning to her with a wide, proud smile that lets her know: mission accomplished. He puts a red flannel on display for her and his smile never falters. “On top of being clean and warm it’s also red. Very christmassy, Santiago.”

“Have you just… always had that in there?”

“Probably since I transferred here,” Jake chuckles as he throws all the things that fell out during his search for the flannel back into the chaos of the locker. “Red is not my best color, so I just keep it in there in case I need a change of clothes…” he trails off as if he’s considering his next move, then his head whips around to look at her. “... Or, like, in case my best friend is in trouble. Might not be up to Santiago-standards but I promise it isn’t gross or anything.”

Amy can’t fight it as tiny butterflies break free in her stomach at the sight of her caring partner, someone she could potentially see as more but alas she’ll never say out loud, send her that small, mischievous yet shy smile of his. Instead of saying anything, too baffled to say anything coherent, her eyes will secretly sparkle and heart do a double take. A joke can perhaps do the job, she thinks, hating how Jake-like she’s become over the years.

“Best friend? I don’t see Boyle in here.”

“What a silly thing to say, Santiago.” Having stuffed all of his randomness back into the locker, he turns back to look at her. “You know very well that you’re my best friend, too.”

Silence, more intense than their usual comfortable ones, fall over them as their eyes stay in touch. It’s as if someone’s supposed to say something, supposed to confess, but nothing of that nature presents itself. Instead Jake clears his throat.

“Now take your wet shirt off and put this on.” He hands her the flannel and for a second their eyes lock again. She takes it from him and keeps their eyes locked, for just a second too long as if she’s trying to communicate through the stare. A tension, one made of something unspoken, once again connects them. Too bad Jake’s quick to divert the situation by clearing his throat, she think, even though she also knows he’s right.

“Uhm, so yeah… Put that on and I’ll wait outside. There’s another hoodie in my locker, uhm on top, if you’re still cold.”

“T-thanks, Jake.”

A small smile is sent her way before he disappears out into the hall and closes the door, allowing Amy to let out a deep breath. Damn Jake Peralta for being so amazing.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

“Tadaaa.”

Jake’s head flies up, from where he was looking down at his phone, to witness a sight he definitely shouldn’t be loving as much as the butterflies in his stomach tell him he certainly does. There’s apparently something about Amy Santiago in his flannel and hoodie that does something to him; sweaty palms, speeding heartbeat and all that jazz.

“How do I look?”

Beautiful. He thinks but doesn’t say it out loud. There’s a teasing glint in his partner’s eyes, one he wants to fall and dive right into so badly, but he’s too aware to give into it. Amy does a pageant twirl and it couldn’t be timed any better, Jake thinks: it’s the perfect occasion for him to throw in a joke and break the spell that he seems to be under.

“Stunning,” he jokes and prays to some higher power that it’s enough to drench them in that never-that-serious, goofy energy they seem to be all about, even after the most serious and intense moments. “Like looking at myself in the mirror.”

She scrunches her nose and smiles, a face she always makes when he says something funny, and Jake doesn’t complain. “Ouch.” She says, pretend-hurt.

“Hey! I’m very handsome, thank you very much…”

“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles, genuinely as only he can, and Amy wants to thank him for so much more than just tonight. She wants to thank him for always being on her side, always making her feel good in every situation imaginable, even the bad ones, and she wants to thank him for truly being her best friend. That would come off as a very emotionally loaded confession though, so instead she bites her lip.

“Anyways… I think I’m gonna head home. I’m not really feeling like going back there.” She confesses.

All at once the light and cheery Amy, the Amy that jokes and rolls her eyes at him, seems to be switched off and once again replaced by the hesitant Amy he rarely sees. The few times he has witnessed said hesitant and insecure Amy, without hesitation or questions, he feels a somewhat irrational need to help her, take care of the thorn in her side, whatever that might be. Although now, with a girlfriend, one that isn’t Amy, weighing down on his conscience, he isn’t quite sure of how to act. The thought of her sitting at home all alone while he and everyone at the Nine-Nine parties doesn’t fall on fertile ground. No way he’s just letting her walk out.

“I’ll head upstairs with you and grab my coat, say goodbye to the squad, and then I’ll be off before I can embarrass myself again.”

“Ames!”

Barely turned on her heels, Jake is significantly faster and manages to block her way to the elevator. In the depth of his brown eyes Amy, surprised to say the least, can see something unravelling. She’s frozen on the spot where he cut her off.

“Jake?”

“Stay? We can have a fun night without going back up to the party.” He flashes a shy smile that reminds her of the kind she and her brothers always used to flash at their mother whenever they knew they were bargaining for an unreasonable cause. Much like that Jake Peralta is indeed a child disguised as a grown man.

“Stay?” There’s that stupid cute frown of hers again, he thinks and he actually isn’t quite sure of the answer. Jake had a bad case of blurting out ideas before being fully sure of what said idea fully was, and this was no exception. All he knew was that Amy couldn’t leave to be alone; he couldn’t have her spend the night doing nothing.

“Uh- I… That’s not what I meant.” It kind of actually was, but he can’t force her to stay if she wants to go, which genuinely seems to be her preferred plan. “Let me follow you home - at least.” Nice save, he thinks to himself.

Her frown slowly melts away like snow on a spring day and, if he isn’t completely delusional, Jake can see a small smile rise on her lips instead and his new idea is actually a good one.

“I would lov-” her voice hitches in her throat when she accidently looks right back into her partner's eyes, momentarily thrown off track, but in true Santiago-style she makes a quick comeback. Keeps the feelings abay and packed away like a pro. “That would be nice, Jake. Thank you”.

“Cool cool cool.” Skin against skin can be heard rubbing against each other, an unusual sound, and it confuses Amy for a second until she notices that Jake’s palms are rubbing against each other. A nervous mannerism on his part that has Amy wonder why . Not for too long though. Jake is quick to save himself.

“Let me go grab our things upstairs. We can meet on the first floor. I’ll tell everyone you feel sick.”

“Thanks, Jake. My coat is-”

“Navy blue, gold buttons and black handbag. Got it.”

So far from a question as could be, a sentence that is more matter of factly than most things Jake says, Amy can only go silent and nod in agreement. The man is very right, after all and she feels fuzzy at how seamlessly it fell from his lips. They enter the elevator in a comfortable silence and after having stepped off on the first floor, Amy can only smile to herself as she sees the elevator doors close between her and what is probably the best partner in the world. Best friend, she corrects herself, reminiscing about Jake’s words from down in the locker room.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

Snow crunches under their feet, the white powder covering every street in Brooklyn, and tonight the otherwise hectic city looks abnormally peaceful. Amidst the winter wonderland, two figures make their way through the drizzling snowfall, both imagining that this is the way things, perhaps, could and should be. Alone, together the two of them, in the world.

Turns out that focusing on the story Amy is currently telling is, even though very interesting, very hard when snowflakes caught in her hair makes it look all glittery and pretty. Also soft, he thinks, and he hates that he wonders what it would feel like to run his fingers through it. Maybe as they were snuggled up on their couch, under blankets, as they watched those stupid Christas movies that he knows she loves. This trail of thoughts is a dangerous one, he’s aware. Luckily Amy herself comes to his rescue, her laughter shattering whatever parallel universe his mind was forming. Of course he laughs along even though he can safely say that he doesn’t know what he’s laughing at. Alone the sound of her laugh is enough to make him want to join. She’s contagious like that - in every way imaginable.

“Hey, Jake?”

She stops and him likewise. “Yeah?”

He turns around to catch her looking longingly at the building they’re currently in front of; a nicely decorated little café. “This place has the best cocoa. Wanna get some? My treat - now that you’re missing out on the party because of me.” She looks back at her partner for some kind of approval, shyly tugging her hair behind her ears in the process and there’s no way Jake can say no - even if he wanted to. The light coming from the café creates an aura-like effect around her figure and Jake swears to himself that she’s an actual angel.

“Sounds good. Mostly because you’re paying,” he manages to snap out of his daydream just in time to come off as nonchalant, teasing, and the two enter the warmth of the café. Inside it’s buzzing with families and couples celebrating the season in each other’s company, and Jake briefly wonders if that will ever be him sitting with a toddler in his lap, allowing it to taste its first hot cocoa as him and the mother witness it with wide smiles on their faces? And with who? Sophia, maybe? Or maybe- no. Definitely can’t go there.

“Two hot dark chocolate with marshmallows, please.”

“Dark?” Jake frowns suddenly back in present time where Amy has made it her task to order their drinks.

“Yeah, they have different kinds but the dark is the best. Trust me.”

“With my life.”

They share a smile and to everyone else in that room, or at least the ones that care enough to pay attention, they could be a couple - foolishly into each other. Before they know it they’re back outside in the cold, although they quickly forget as their respective cups of cocoa warms their hands, and soon after reach Amy’s apartment building. It feels like forever since they left the precinct, when actually, Jake notices when he checks his phone, it’s only been about an hour. Darkness does that to his already questionable sense of time.

His deed is done, he knows; Amy is home safe, and he can head back to the precinct and party with a bunch of people he doesn’t really care about. Or at least cares just a bit less about than Amy. Suddenly the urge to party, act like an idiot and get drunk surely doesn’t sound tempting - at all. Maybe it’s the few hours he’s spent hanging out alone with Amy; perhaps it’s the taste of dark hot cocoa stuck on his tongue, the one he’d moaned about “indeed being the best he’d ever had” just minutes ago… He can’t figure it out but something from within the last two hours has him hating the thought of being anywhere else but here with Amy. If he asked her to hang out outside in the snow, he would.

“So... “ Amy breaks the silence. “Thanks for walking me home… And the shirt and hoodie.You’ll have it back, washed and everything, tomorrow. Promise.”

Consistent as always, Jake thinks and smiles with amusement radiating from his eyes. “Yeah, I’m really going to need that back asap. It’s not like I have the exact same outfit, like times ten, at home… Like some cartoon animal.”

She laughs, throwing her head back and Jake feels the snow beneath him melt.

“Good to know.” She straightens back up, arms crossed to keep her warm, even though Jake is certain her smile must radiate enough warmth to keep them both warm.

“No worries.”

Silence swallows them and all there is to be heard is the sound of the forever and always buzzing Brooklyn; cars, people yelling, jingle bells, dogs barking and everything that makes Brooklyn oh so very Brooklyn.

“Sooo…” Amy shuffles on the spot nervously creating small patterns in the before solid snow. “Are headed back to the party? I bet Charles misses you.”

They share a chuckle, both well-knowing she isn’t joking.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right but... “ He hesitates to say it, nervously biting his lip as the hands in his pocket’s shuffle around for nothing at all. “I don’t think I’m gonna head back. I’m just gonna head home. Everyone’s probably all buzzed by now and I don’t think I’m up for the challenge of catching up.”

“Oh… I- uhm-”

The shuffling only grows worse and it’s as if the young woman can’t find peace, bit by bit aggravating the guilt she’s suddenly feeling - a guilt he’d never intended her to feel. “Jake, I’m so sorry if you felt like you had to skip the party to follow me home. You should've just stayed behind and had fun with everyone. I would’ve been just fin-”

“Ames.” He gently grabs her by the upper arms, stopping her from spiralling completely. “Shut up.” He makes sure to smile when he says it. “I’ve had way more fun hanging out with you than I would’ve with those bazillion strangers back at the precinct.”

He can feel her shoulders drop, relaxing, before she flashes back a smile. A snowflake lands on the very tip of her nose and Jake smiles even wider. Little does she know why. “First of all: bazillion is not a real number. Second of all: if it was then I don’t think that many people work at our precinct,” she argues with a glimt in her eye that matches the snowflakes on her face.

“How can you know if bazilion is not an actual number? A bazillion might be like.. 85?” He tilts his head in that challenging way he always does when he knows he’s got a point.

Silence.

“You might be one of the Nine-Nine’s best detectives but, my God,I swear sometimes you’re so stupid,” she finishes with an affectionate chuckles.

“No doubt.”

They both laugh it off and it’s so them, they both can’t help but think.

“Anyways… Feel free to say no, but wanna come up? We can finish our cocoas and watch a Christmas movie, maybe?”

There’s nothing he’d rather do. Without a doubt.

“I would like that.”

“Okay then,” she agrees and unlocks the door to her building. “I’m not watching ‘Die Hard’ though.”

“Aw, come on, Ames!” he whines.

“It’s not a Christmas movie and if you try to convince me otherwise, then I will prove you wrong. I have a list of arguments saved on my phone - solely for this very occasion.”

“Challenge accepted!”

They end up watching ‘Home Alone’ instead, huddled up on Amy’s couch with each their blanket and hot cocoa, a friendly distance between them, of course, and if you were to ask them, they both had the best Christmas party-evening. They laugh their way through the movie and each other’s company, no complications in sight, and how they both wish, deep down, that everyday could be like this.

The end.

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

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